


Harry Potter and The Bisexual Awakening

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Banter, Biphobia, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Coming Out, Community: hd_erised, Dogs, Driving, Friends to Lovers, Gay Male Character, H/D Erised 2018, Hand Jobs, M/M, POV Harry Potter, Party, Party Games, Pets, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Queer Themes, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-17 15:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16977186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: Harry is perfectly content being single, heterosexual and living in Godric's Hollow with his very clingy rescue dog, Snitch. When Draco Malfoy turns up on Harry's doorstep demanding that Harry teach him how to drive, things quickly become a lot more complicated.





	Harry Potter and The Bisexual Awakening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [herman_the_moth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/herman_the_moth/gifts).



> Dear Caroll-In, I so hope you enjoy this story! Your prompts were a delight and I hope I managed to work in a number of your likes. For readers concerned about the biphobia tag, there are several instances of biphobic comments made without anybody calling them out, but the fic as a whole works to challenge those misconceptions and hopefully does so successfully by the end, so please don't be too put off by the tag. Thank you to amazing G for pre-reading, sense-checking and edits and to A for a final SPaG check. Thank you to the mods for your patience and for running this terrific fest, you're all marvels.

Draco Malfoy doesn’t look like the kind of person that would relish driving a Fiat. If he had to travel via non-magical means, Harry would expect something classic like a racing green Jag, the sort people with leather driving gloves take to the countryside on their way to shoot pheasant. That, or something that screams posh twat with a penis complex, like a red Ferrari. All things considered it’s something of a surprise when Malfoy— _stick up his arse about anything non-magical_ Malfoy—turns up on Harry’s doorstep demanding driving lessons in Harry’s trusty but unexciting car.

“I have a Fiat.” Harry points at the little car he affectionately calls ‘Flo’ on his drive. “It’s pretty basic.”

Malfoy gives him a snooty look, as if to imply Harry’s the basic one. “I don’t plan to be seen in this monstrosity of yours by anyone that matters. I just need to learn how to drive a car, then I can buy my own, better one.”

Harry rolls his eyes, because of course Malfoy would take every advantage of the opportunity to remind Harry how filthy rich he is. “We haven’t spoken in over a year, and you just turn up on my doorstep demanding driving lessons?”

Malfoy studies his nails and has the decency to look slightly sheepish. “Granger said I should ask you.”

Harry’s going to have serious words with Hermione. “ _Why_? I’m not a driving instructor.”

“No, but you’re a teacher. Anyway, I tried to find someone else, but you’re the only person I know with a Muggle car.”

“You could have tried a Muggle driving instructor.”

“I did.” Malfoy shudders. “The instructor kept eating dry roasted peanuts and talked with his mouth full. It was grotesque.”

“How traumatic for you.” Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes, but it’s a challenge. “I hope you’ve fully recovered.”

“Barely.” Malfoy adjusts the cuff of his sleeve. “Will you teach me, or won’t you? I’ll pay you.”

“I don’t need your money, thanks all the same.” Harry racks his brains trying to think about something he wants from Malfoy, but he mainly just wants him to go away. He should probably get back to ignoring the mountain of marking he’s been putting off for ages. He settles for giving Malfoy what he hopes is a vaguely intimidating look. “I’m sure I’ll think of something. You can owe me one.”

“Oh good.” Malfoy doesn’t seem intimidated in the slightest, more’s the pity. “I’m always happy to give fashion advice if you can’t think of anything.”

Harry glares at Malfoy. “Why would I need that?”

Malfoy arches an elegant eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“I’d rather not look like a total knob, thanks.” Harry frowns at Malfoy’s attire in all its snooty glory. “Is that a _waistcoat?_?”

“Yes, Potter. Observant as ever. Do you have something to say about it?”

“Nothing good,” Harry mutters. He decides to change the subject. “What do you want to learn to drive for, anyway?”

“That’s none of your business,” Malfoy retorts. “I want driving lessons, not an interrogation.”

“Fine.” Harry resists the urge to throttle Malfoy. “Have your sodding lessons if you want. I’ve got some free time.”

“I heard. I’m amazed you’re not in Brazil. Isn’t that where most of the Aurors are at the minute?”

“That’s confidential.” The Ministry’s work trying to temper magical unrest in Brazil has been all over the _Daily Prophet_ , but still. Harry feels like he should maintain a modicum of discretion. “Anyway, I don’t work with the Aurors anymore. Not unless I’m needed.”

“I heard that, too.” Malfoy gives Harry a curious look. “Don’t you get bored?”

“Not really.” Harry shrugs. “I’ve got more than enough to keep me occupied.”

It’s true, even if this time of year is slower than most. His job training new Aurors keeps Harry busy at the Ministry for a large chunk of the year, but it’s the summers he likes the best. Going back to Hogwarts and teaching Quidditch at a new summer school he established with Ginny is one of Harry’s favourite things to do. He loves being at the castle and spending hours on a balmy summer day flying through the blue skies above the familiar turrets. It’s this time of year he likes the least. Summer has long since passed, leaving only rainy days and a long, cold, winter in its wake. The trainee Aurors finished their final exams weeks ago, which means that technically Harry should be getting on with his marking, but the thought makes him go cross-eyed. Even teaching Malfoy to drive sounds like a better prospect.

“I expected you and Weasley to team up together to take the Ministry by storm,” Malfoy says. For someone who won’t even tell Harry why he needs driving lessons, he’s awfully nosy. “I thought there was a Head Auror badge with your name on.”

“Yeah, well. It’s got somebody else’s name on it now.”

Harry isn’t one for oversharing and he doesn’t need to tell Draco Malfoy about the way being an Auror felt so unexpectedly wrong after a few years of post-war clean-up. There’s something freeing about not being at the heart of the battle for once, and he can’t help but feel that Malfoy might be judgmental about Harry’s burnout and fighting fatigue. Teaching, surprisingly, is something he’s good at. Helping prospective Aurors with advanced spells reminds him of teaching Dumbledore’s Army how to cast a Patronus. The Quidditch summer school keeps him active, as do the more physical parts of the Auror training, like the rigorous duels and the practical exams. Harry knows if the Ministry ever found themselves confronted with a threat like Voldemort again, he would return as a fully-fledged Auror, but thankfully that isn’t a decision he has to take at the moment.

“I have some time on my hands too.” Malfoy moves on from poking his nose into Harry’s career choices. “We can meet whenever suits you.”

“Good of you, considering I’m doing you a favour.” Harry huffs under his breath. “How about Friday afternoon?” He mentally congratulates himself on being a responsible adult. He can do his marking during the week and knock off early for Malfoy’s lessons. At least that’s the plan. “I’ll have to bring Snitch though, she doesn’t like to be left alone.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrow. “New girlfriend?”

Harry makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. “No, I don’t have a girlfriend called _Snitch_ , you pillock.”

“I did wonder. I would have thought any girlfriend of yours would be thrilled to have a little time apart.” Malfoy smirks at Harry. “Your blow-up doll, perhaps?”

Harry stares at Malfoy. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m going to bring an inflatable sex toy on a driving lesson with you. There’s nothing that turns me on more than being in a confined space with someone who thinks a rear-view mirror is for combing his hair. Snitch is my _dog_ , you insufferable dickhead.”

Malfoy looks horrified. “I don’t want your filthy mutt anywhere near me. Why does she have to come?”

Harry glares at Malfoy, because nobody speaks like that about Snitch. “Because she’s a rescue dog and she gets scared if I leave her alone for long periods of time. She’s coming with and you’re going to be nice to her, otherwise you can find someone else to teach you to drive.”

“ _Fine_.” Malfoy lets out an exasperated sigh. “Whatever. I suppose I can put up with your mongrel for an hour or two. What time should I come?”

“One o’clock should be fine.”

“Then we have a deal.” Malfoy extends his hand with smooth formality. “Pleasure doing business with you, Potter.”

Harry pulls a face and shakes Malfoy’s hand, cool and slim in his own. “Wish I could say the same. See you Friday.”

He watches Malfoy make his way down the drive and closes the door behind him wondering how the fuck he became Malfoy’s driving instructor.

He makes his way into the kitchen and Snitch pads along the floor, her tongue lolling out. She jumps up and puts her paws on Harry’s leg, demanding to be fussed. She’s really the best dog Harry’s ever known. Her once matted fur has almost grown back to its full, shaggy, golden lustre. Her eyes—formerly wild and terrified—are soft brown and when she paws at Harry, she looks like she’s smiling. She’s a small Golden Retriever, fully-grown but still only tall enough to reach Harry’s knees with her paws when she stretches up on her hind legs to try to get his attention. Harry adores her.

“That was Draco Malfoy, Snitch,” Harry says. He rubs behind her ears and she gives an excited yelp. “We think he’s a bit of a twat, don’t we?”

Snitch barks again and Harry gets on his knees to give her a proper cuddle for being such a good girl.

He can always rely on Snitch to agree with him.

*

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Harry opens the door to Malfoy, or _Draco_ , as Harry’s been trying to call him in his head for the sake of putting the past behind them. If Hermione thinks he’s decent—much to the amazement of Harry and Ron—he supposes the least he can do is make an effort.

“This is my driving outfit.” Draco adjusts the cuff of his brown leather gloves. “I thought it was very distinguished.”

“It looks bloody uncomfortable if you ask me.” Harry can’t imagine wearing a starched shirt to drive and nobody should wear jeans that tight when they’re trying to parallel park. “Couldn’t you have put on some joggers?”

“And dress like that?” Draco gives Harry’s outfit a disdainful glance and rolls his eyes. “You look like the Gryffindor common room threw up on you.”

“It’s not that bad.” Harry’s grey tracksuit bottoms do have _Gryffindor_ in large, burgundy letters down the leg and he’s wearing his favourite Gryffindor Quidditch Team t-shirt, but it’s just because they’re comfortable. He’s definitely not trying to annoy Malfoy by reminding him of all the times Harry beat him to the Snitch.

“Can you even wear those around Muggles?” Draco gives Harry another horrified glance. “Not only is the entire outfit heinous, it also violates section 568 of the International Wizarding Statute of Secrecy.”

“Give over, nobody cares.” Harry had forgotten Malf— _Draco_ (that posh git)—did legal training after the war, before leaving to become a rare gem trader at Gringotts. Harry thinks law is the dullest business on the planet. “Nobody’s going to pay any attention to my outfit. Muggles wear all kinds of things, they probably just think Quidditch is something from a cool book.”

“If you say so.” Draco peers over Harry’s shoulder. “Have you left your mongrel with a neighbour?” He sounds hopeful.

“Nope.” Harry reaches for a lead and advances into the hallway, looking back at Draco. “She’s just a bit excitable when she meets new people. Close the door, will you? I don’t want her running outside before I get the lead on.”

Draco looks as though he’s got half a mind to close the door with himself still outside it, but he eventually steps inside, muttering a curse. “I hate dogs.”

“You do?” Harry stares at Draco. “Dogs are brilliant. Why on earth would you hate them?”

“Because.” Draco’s cheeks flush pink and Harry laughs as a thought occurs to him.

“You’re scared of dogs?”

“I’m not _scared_ , Potter,” Draco says crossly. “I just think they’re dreadful.”

“You are!” Harry crows. “You’re scared. Well don’t worry, Snitch doesn’t bite. She might lick you to death, mind. I’ll keep her on the lead if you don’t want her jumping up.”

“I hate dog people,” Draco mutters. He twists his hands together and it occurs to Harry he really _is_ scared. As tempting as it is to let Snitch barrel towards Malfoy with her usual enthusiasm, that might be a bit of a crap thing to do. He opens the kitchen door carefully and Snitch immediately pokes her golden nose through the crack as her tail beats against the wall. She whimpers, wanting to know why she’s been left in the kitchen by herself when all the fun—if you can call a visit from Draco _fun_ —is happening in the hall.

“Steady, girl.” Harry opens the door fully, clipping the lead onto Snitch’s collar and gathering her into his arms as she tumbles against him, licking his face with the enthusiasm of a dog that’s been left unattended for five hours, not five minutes.

“That,” Draco says, “is disgusting.”

“Naff off, Malfoy.” Harry presses his face into Snitch’s soft fur and murmurs against her hot little body. “You’re not disgusting, are you? You’re brilliant.” He stands, gathering the lead around his hand to keep the leash relatively short. She pulls on it, her paws skidding across the floor as she tries to get closer to Draco. “It’s okay, love. This is Draco. I told you about him. Remember?”

“Oh my god.” Draco stares at Snitch with trepidation. “You speak to her like she’s a person?”

“Don’t criticise how I treat my dog. You’re so annoying.”

“Your dog is bananas.” Draco flinches when Snitch advances closer, taking a step back.

“She’s fine, she’s just excited. She wants to say hello.” Harry ruffles her head when she whimpers, clearly wondering why Draco isn’t fussing over her like most of Harry’s visitors do. Ron pays more attention to Snitch than Harry, most days. He’s been on at Hermione about getting a dog for ages.

Draco tentatively holds out a hand and Snitch whimpers. She backs against Harry, her little body shaking. Draco yanks his hand back. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing, she can just tell you’re nervous. Maybe take those stupid gloves off and let her see your hand, in case she thinks you’re going to hit her.”

“Why would she think that?” Draco stares at Harry, as if Snitch has personally affronted his moral character.

“Because she’s a rescue dog. She came to me really messed up. That’s why I don’t like leaving her alone. She’s not dangerous, she just likes lots of fuss and you have to be a bit gentle with her. Once you get her on side, you’ll have a friend for life.”

“Wonderful.” Draco rolls his eyes but shifts onto his haunches after sliding off his gloves and putting them in his pocket. He holds out a tentative hand and Snitch sniffs at it, before licking him. “Ugh.”

“Don’t be so bloody precious.” Harry laughs under his breath. “She’s just showing she likes you.”

“She does?” Draco sounds unsure, stroking Snitch behind the ears. Harry lets the lead out just a little more so she can nuzzle into Draco, pawing at him and rubbing her head against his leg. “Would you look at that.”

“She likes being fussed.” Harry watches Draco stroking Snitch and feels a swell of pride at his ridiculous dog with her big, full heart. She really does like Draco. She’s not always so instantly friendly with people. It makes Harry wonder if Draco’s a decent person after all. Snitch has excellent taste. She growled at Dawlish for ages, which is fair, because Dawlish is a tit. “Are you okay to keep her in your lap when I’m driving? She won’t be any trouble. She likes the car. I think it sends her to sleep.”

Draco isn’t listening to Harry. Instead, he’s murmuring words of encouragement to Snitch. His bright, open smile lights up his whole face and makes him look even more attractive than usual. Objectively speaking.

Harry clears his throat and gives Snitch a pat on the head. “Come on, then. Let’s go and see Flo.”

“You’re ridiculous, Potter. You and that dog of yours. Who the fuck names their car?”

“I do.” Harry offers Snitch’s lead to Draco. “Want to take her?”

“I suppose I might as well.”

Harry doesn’t miss the fact that Draco doesn’t take his eyes off Snitch the whole way to the car, a relaxed, happy smile on his face.

*

Harry drives them to an empty Tesco’s carpark, after putting ‘L’ plates on his car. Snitch curls up happily in Draco’s lap and he fusses over her as they make their way out of the countryside and into the town.

“This dog of yours is surprisingly tolerable.” Draco rubs behind Snitch’s ears and she snuffles happily. “As dogs go, this one is quite decent.”

“She is.” Harry shoots Draco a grin when he stops at a traffic light. “She’s the best.”

“Muggle car, Muggle dog.” Draco raises an eyebrow at Harry. “Are you leaving magic behind?”

“Hardly.” Harry laughs and shakes his head, focusing on the road and turning right when the lights change. “I love magic. I just don’t think there’s the same call for people to adopt Crups or Kneazles. Besides, I always wanted a dog. When I was little the only toy I had was this old cast-off teddy bear from Dudley and I used to pretend it was real. It looked a bit like Snitch here when I first got her, all worn through with patches of fur missing and sad eyes.”

“How charming,” Draco says. He doesn’t sound like he’s taking the piss. If anything, he sounds slightly bemused. “Why the car?”

Harry shrugs. “Apparition makes me want to throw up and I’m shit at travelling by Floo. I don’t mind it, but if I want to get some shopping it’s easier just to take Flo to a Muggle supermarket. I sometimes fly, it depends on the weather.”

“Your cottage is magical, though?”

“Sort of.” Harry glances at Draco. “The village—Godric’s Hollow—you know about. There are more Muggles now than there used to be. I thought about moving into my parents’ old place, but witches and wizards still visit it like a shrine on Halloween. I’m not sure I’d want people gawking at me through the windows. It’s a difficult enough time of year as it is.”

“I can imagine,” Draco replies. He pauses, giving Snitch another pat on the head. “I just assumed you would live in the cottage your parents owned.”

Harry pulls to a stop in the Tesco’s carpark, switching off the engine. “I wanted to be part of the village and Potter Cottage is unplottable. It felt a bit lonely living somewhere and being invisible to most of the people in the village. I was visiting my parents’ graves and saw a little cottage with a ‘For Sale’ sign and decided to use some of the cash in the Potter vault to buy it. I spent time renovating the cottage and then moved in. It’s more magical than Muggle, connected to the Floo Network, telly going wonky, magical portraits, that sort of thing, but from the outside it's just as Muggle as the other non-magical houses.”

“What about the Black property?”

“Ron and Hermione live there. It makes more sense. They both want kids and it’s too big for one. They both work at the Ministry too, so it’s handy. I don’t spend nearly as much time in London as they do and I’m at Hogwarts during the summer. Anyway, the best thing about winter is being in Godric’s Hollow. They do brilliant turkey roasts at the pub.”

“You just gave your friends a house?” Draco stares at Harry, startling when Snitch moves in his lap to try to get to Harry.

“Come here, girl.” Harry laughs and gathers Snitch in his arms, giving her a cuddle. “I’ll have to take her for a wee before we start, let her stretch her legs a bit. Want to come?”

“I suppose I’ll have to.” Draco pulls a face and gets out of the car, stretching. They take Snitch to trot around the carpark, letting her sniff her way along.

“I’ll take her for a proper run later.” Harry looks at Snitch fondly, then turns back to Draco. “Grimmauld Place never really felt like mine.”

“Some might say that’s because it wasn’t,” Draco mutters. He gives Harry a half smile to show he’s teasing.

“I always forget you were related to Sirius.” Harry lets Snitch’s lead out, so she can bound ahead of them. “It’s weird.”

“Is it?” Draco shrugs. “I don’t think so. It’s not as though we knew one another.”

“No. I suppose not.” Harry swallows back the wave of nostalgia that often leaves him sad when he thinks about Sirius. “You’re still at the Manor?”

“Yes.” Draco nods. “Mother and Father moved out shortly after the war, but you knew that already.” His smile doesn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sure the Ministry keeps careful track of their movements.”

“I wouldn’t know. Not anymore,” Harry says, honestly. He looks at Draco curiously. “Do you still see them?”

“Of course.” Draco looks cross. “They’re my parents, Potter, whatever they are to you.”

Harry takes a breath. “I know.”

“The Manor can be a bit big for one person too, sometimes.”

“No boyfriend?” Harry supposes there’s no point in beating around the bush. The _Daily Prophet_ had a field day with a series of _Sole Malfoy Heir A Homosexual!_ back in the day. The thinly veiled judgment left an unpleasant taste in Harry’s mouth. He wishes the papers weren’t so bloody obsessed with who people are getting off with. He’s always believed in loving who you want to love and just getting on with it. The wizarding world is an odd sort of place which seems to have a long history of wizards bonding with other wizards and witches bonding with other witches, but some of the stigma of the Muggle world still seems to have filtered into various factions of the magical one, the press in particular.

“No.” Draco gives Harry a small smile. “Not for a long time. There was someone, but we’re better as friends.” He heaves a dramatic sigh. “I’m depressingly single. That’s why I need to learn how to drive. I’m expanding my horizons into the Muggle world—Malfoy’s something of a dirty word amongst wizards—and everybody thinks you’re peculiar if you can’t drive.”

“I’m teaching you to drive so you can get a shag?” Harry stops and stares at Draco, a peculiar flash of jealousy taking him by surprise. It’s probably just the idea of anybody having sex. It’s been longer than Harry cares to admit since he’s had any joy on that front.

“Yes.” Draco grins. “Thanks, Potter. I’ll send you a Fortnum & Mason hamper for being so helpful. If you enjoy Muggle things so much, the least I can do is introduce you to tasteful Muggle establishments.”

“You could have said,” Harry mutters. He whistles at Snitch, giving a gentle tug on the lead. She comes running back to him dutifully. “Come on then. Let’s start this lesson of yours.”

They make their way to the car in compatible silence and Harry wonders if it’s possible that he and Draco Malfoy might actually become friends after this.

Stranger things have happened, after all.

*

Malfoy, it turns out, is terrible at driving.

They finally make it halfway across the carpark without stalling before deciding to call it a day. They swap seats and Harry drives them back to Godric’s Hollow, noticing the way Draco takes in the surroundings curiously. He wonders if Draco’s ever been here, before barging into Harry’s life so unexpectedly. So much of the little village features prominently in school history books—from Dumbledore’s family to Ignotus Peverell and Harry himself—it must be odd seeing somewhere that previously only existed in pictures and text books.

When they arrive at Harry’s cottage he gets out of the car and locks it, letting Snitch off her lead to run into the house.

“Do you want to use the Floo? Or you can Apparate. I’ll drop the wards. Better not disappear in the middle of the drive, my Muggle neighbours are nosy as fuck as it is.” Harry steps back from the doorway, letting Draco come inside. “I can make a sandwich and a cup of tea before you go, if you like.”

“I don’t want to keep you.” Draco looks uncertain.

“It’s not keeping me.” Harry grins at Draco. “I’ve been trying to avoid my marking for days. I can’t be bothered.”

“If you’re sure.” Draco follows Harry into the house, taking off his coat and putting it neatly on a nearby hook before dumping his scarf on the kitchen counter. Snitch is already curled up in her bed. She looks up at Draco and wags her tail before settling back onto her paws with a _harrumph_ and closing her eyes.

“I’m sure. I think I can stretch to bread and cheese.”

Harry is surprised to find that being quiet with Malfoy is as easy as their usual sparring back and forth. He uses a combination of magic and Muggle methods to make two cheese and ham sandwiches with generous slices of bread, and mugs of hot, sweet tea. Even with one foot very firmly in the Muggle world, Harry can’t bear to leave magic completely behind for any length of time. Casting even the simplest spells leaves him relaxed and content, like the feeling he gets after going flying, for a long run or after swimming in the local pool. He puts the plate down in front of Draco, and sits opposite him, contemplating him over the edge of his mug.

“Nice mug.” Draco gives the _Gryffindors are Great_ mug an offended look. “I’ll have to buy you the Slytherin version for next time.

“Slytherins are…?”

“Sexy,” Draco finishes. He winks at Harry. “I’d prefer to be sexy than great.”

“I think you’re thinking of a different line. Gin got me the Gryffindors are Gorgeous one a few years back.”

Draco gives Harry an odd look. “Yes. I suppose they are.”

The comment makes Harry’s neck flush and he returns to his sandwich, not entirely sure why Draco makes him so unsettled sometimes.

“You can get me the Slytherin one though, if you’re so offended by having your tea in a Gryffindor mug.” Harry swallows a mouthful of his sandwich and washes it down with a sip of his tea. “I have Slytherin friends.”

“Not many, I’d warrant.”

“Maybe not.” Harry holds Draco’s gaze. “I have you.”

“Oh.” Draco puts down his sandwich, a look of surprise flickering over his face. “Are we friends?”

“I don’t know.” Harry shrugs. “We’ve spent half the day driving around a carpark together and now we’re drinking tea and eating a sandwich. I’d say we’re something like it.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Draco murmurs. “How unexpected.”

Harry laughs. “You can say that again.”

Draco gives Harry a careful look. “You’re not with Ginevra anymore?”

“Nope.” Harry winces. “She really hates that, too. She’s always been Ginny—only teachers and her boss call her Ginevra. She doesn’t like it much.”

“Okay.” Draco sounds like he doesn’t give two hoots what Ginny likes to be called. “You’re not with _Ginny_ anymore?”

“I haven’t been for a long time.” Harry chews his sandwich thoughtfully. “I haven’t been with anyone for ages. Not properly.”

“What constitutes _properly_?” Draco arches an eyebrow at Harry, the air in the room a touch warmer than before.

“A relationship. It’s been a while since I’ve done the rest of it, too.” Harry tries not to blush and quickly takes another bite of his sandwich before he starts telling Malfoy about his sex life—or lack thereof.

“Poor Potter.” Draco smirks and sucks a crumb off his thumb. “You must have a lot of pent-up tension.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Harry glares at Draco. “Don’t take the piss. I bet you’re off shagging half the wizards in London.”

“I don’t limit myself to London,” Draco replies. He gives Harry a fiendish grin. “I believe in expanding my horizons. I have fun, if that’s what you’re asking in that oafish way of yours. You should try it some time.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Harry’s body flushes with unexpected heat as he imagines what Draco might be like in bed. _It’s just curiosity_ , he tells himself. He’s never really chatted to someone who’s gay about stuff like this. It’s only natural that he might be interested in hearing more about it. “No one serious?”

“Not particularly, not for a while.” Draco finishes the last of his sandwich and sips his tea. “You’ve already asked me that. Any particular reason you’re so interested in my love life?”

“No reason.” Harry clears their plates away and tidies up the mess he’s already managed to make of the kitchen, hoping he doesn’t look as flustered as he suddenly feels.

Harry turns when he’s put away the cutlery and sucks in a sharp breath. Draco’s close enough that it takes Harry by surprise. His body reacts unexpectedly to the proximity and Harry swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. Draco moves closer to Harry, his body hot against Harry’s own. For one confusing, desperate moment, Harry thinks Draco’s going to kiss him. What surprises him most of all is the part of him that thinks he might like it. He holds his breath, his heart thudding in his chest as Draco reaches behind Harry and grabs his scarf.

“Got it.” Draco steps back from Harry and wraps his scarf around his neck, giving him a quick look. “Thanks for the lesson and the lunch.”

“You’re welcome.” Harry’s heart is beating so loudly he’s sure Draco must be able to hear it. His palms are clammy and he can hardly get his words out. He wants to pull Draco close again, the space between them already too much. He doesn’t know what the fuck was in that mug of tea, but he’s going to have to be careful drinking caffeine around Malfoy in future if this is the result. “See you next Friday?”

“Yes. See you then.” Draco Apparates on the spot, leaving Harry uncomfortably aroused and very, very confused. He closes his eyes and recalls Ginny’s soft lips and the slide of her mouth against his own. He liked it. He liked all of it. He's enjoyed all the nights he's had with witches—apart from that terrible one when he was pissed and probably completely rubbish in bed. He threw up in the loo the morning after and she kicked him out, promising to Fire-Call the next day. Harry never heard from her again.

He knows he’s not gay. He’s definitely not gay. But there’s something about Draco Malfoy that makes Harry hot and bothered in a way that doesn’t feel in the slightest bit platonic.

As much as he hates to admit it, Harry’s already looking forward to next Friday.

He just wishes he could work out _why_.

*

Three weeks later Harry decides that Draco has learned enough to be able to take the car out of the carpark and onto the roads, a decision he rapidly regrets when the car stalls at the traffic lights and Draco nearly crashes into a parked Range Rover on the way back to Godric’s Hollow.

Despite the fact Draco can’t half be a stuck-up arse at times, Harry has been pleasantly surprised by the ease with which they’ve settled into casual conversation. He knows Narcissa Malfoy makes delicious Boeuf Bourguignon and that Draco gets bored of his Gringotts job. Lunch has become part of their lessons and Harry—grudgingly—has to admit that Draco’s quite funny sometimes. Not to mention Snitch adores him. Ron thinks Harry’s finally lost his marbles— _all that marking you’re not doing is going to your brain, mate_ —and Hermione is particularly smug— _I told you he’s changed and I’m rarely wrong about anything_.

“We’re going to have to go back to the carpark next week,” Harry says. He gives the dashboard a little pat to apologise to Flo for letting Malfoy get his incompetent paws on her. “You’re a horrible driver.”

“That’s not very encouraging. I thought you were supposed to be a teacher.” Draco glares at Harry, their back and forth now easy and familiar.

“I’m trying my best.” Harry glances at Draco, who seems preoccupied. “Is something bothering you?”

“Not really. I’m having a party tonight, I have other things on my mind than a three-point-turn.” Draco brings Flo to a jerky stop on Harry’s drive and switches off the engine. “I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it.”

“I wish I had your confidence.” Harry undoes his seatbelt and gets out of the car, laughing as Snitch starts chasing her own tail. “A party?”

“Yes, it’s a regular Friday evening affair every month. Just some friends, a few bottles of decent wine and good conversation.” Draco pointedly doesn’t invite Harry, which is pretty bloody rude as he’s currently benefiting from Harry’s expertise for free.

“I like wine,” Harry says. He’s really more of a lager bloke, but he wouldn’t mind the friends and good conversation bit, even if Draco’s friends are probably a load of posh wankers. It’s not that he’s desperate to go to Malfoy’s stupid party or anything, but Ron and Hermione can’t talk about anything but babies at the minute, Neville is in Spain on an extended trip researching a new magical herb that’s sprung up in Mijas, Seamus and Dean are putting all of their energy into their new business, Ginny’s off touring with the Harpies and Luna’s in New York speaking at some kind of Nargle-related conference.

Harry’s been trying to put his marking off for well over a month and the pile of work is starting to look gloomy and ominous when he spends too much time at the cottage. He’s been itching to go out and have one of the big, reckless evenings he used enjoy in his early twenties, before his friends started getting busy with things that didn’t involve bars and clubs. He’s heard about Draco’s parties before, and he can’t help but be curious about the kind of event that gets all kinds of people gossiping, from people at the Ministry, to his friends, to the barman in the Three Broomsticks.

“ _You_ like wine?” Draco narrows his eyes as if he thinks Harry is having him on.

“Yes, Malfoy,” Harry lies. “I do have some taste.”

“You could have fooled me,” Draco mutters. He crosses his arms and contemplates Harry. “I don’t think it’s for you. My parties can get a little out of hand.” Draco waves a careless hand.

The thought sends a strange thrill through Harry, which he doesn’t understand. Harry resents the fact that he—owner of an Invisibility Cloak, Marauder’s Map and notorious rule-breaker—has become synonymous with _sensible_ and _boring_ while Draco _look at my Prefect badge_ Malfoy is somehow more notorious for excellent parties than his affiliation with Voldemort and fondness for grassing up people like Harry during Hogwarts.

“I’ve been to a party before, Malfoy.” Harry glares at Draco. He’s so bloody annoying.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to come, I’m just not sure you’d enjoy it.” Draco pauses. “Most of my friends are gay.” Draco sounds momentarily uncertain and Harry has to swallow back an unexpected swoop of interest that takes him by surprise.

“You honestly think I’d care?” Harry says. He bites back the urge to say something snarky about Malfoy being the one with all the prejudice, from what he can remember. For whatever reason, Draco seems genuinely worried how Harry might respond to that information. It’s hardly news that Draco’s gay, or remotely surprising that some of his friends might be, too. “I’m not bothered,” he says firmly. “Not bothered at all.” His insistence feels like a lie, even though he’s not bothered in the way Draco probably imagines. A strange, nervous curiosity worms through him that he can’t quite explain. It’s the same feeling he gets in the pit of his belly when Malfoy laughs and his whole face lights up, or when Snitch seems particularly enamoured with Draco’s crisp, expensive tones and he watches them playing together when he’s supposed to be making sandwiches. 

Draco contemplates Harry, a momentary flicker of relief crossing his face, before the usual, haughty look returns. “I trust you know where the Manor is. The party starts from seven and they usually run quite late, in case you’re worrying about that ridiculous dog of yours.”

“I’ll work something out.” Harry glances at his scruffy jeans and Oasis t-shirt, wondering what people wear to a party at the Manor. Black tie, probably. Draco seems like the sort. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, suddenly awkward. “I won’t stay too late, anyway. Thanks. For, err, inviting me.”

“It’s fine.” Draco sounds as though it really is, meeting Harry’s gaze with a smirk. “You’re a very impressive party guest. A celebrity, no less. My friends will think I’m going up in the world.”

“Leave it out.” Harry laughs, his awkwardness easing. “Do you want lunch?”

“I can’t. I’ve got to make sure the caterers aren’t fucking everything up back at the Manor.” Draco rolls his eyes. “I don’t know why I insist on using them. They can’t even make vol-au-vents without supervision.”

“What a nightmare.” Harry grasps his chest with his hand. “How do you survive?”

“With difficulty.” Draco gives Harry a lopsided smile. “Tonight, then.”

“Yeah.” Harry glances down at his outfit again. “What’s the dress code?”

“Smart, not too smart,” Draco replies, not at all helpfully. “Most people dress in Muggle clothes. Who can be bothered with wizarding robes?”

“Not me. I hate the things.” Harry’s glad the dress code is Muggle at least, but he’s surprised Malfoy wouldn’t insist on something more traditional. He lets Draco inside so he can use the Floo and watches him say goodbye to Snitch, the strange ball of nervous anticipation from earlier settling in his stomach. “See you later, then.”

“Yes.” Draco looks at Harry with an odd expression on his face, a fistful of Floo powder in his hand. “See you later.”

The green smoke from the Floo billows out into the room, sending Harry into a coughing fit. Snitch barrels next to Harry with a whimper, and Harry rubs behind her ears.

“It’s just Malfoy going home, darling. Don’t worry.” He cuddles her little body close as she yips and licks his neck with her hot, rough tongue. “I’ve got a party to go to. I’m going to have a shower, girl. You can come and lie on the bed if you like. Keep me company.”

Harry straightens and makes his way upstairs, with Snitch following close behind.

*

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Draco stares at Harry when he steps through the Floo. His shirt is unbuttoned, and his hair is still wet. The sight of his bare chest and slender torso with the faintest trace of scars on his belly makes Harry’s throat suddenly dry. It’s like he’s back there again, yelling _Sectumsempra_ with his wand pointing at Draco.

“I’m here for the party.” Harry checks the Muggle watch Hermione got him as a none-too-subtle hint that Harry should be a better timekeeper. It’s half-past seven, which Harry thought was fashionably late. “You said seven,” he points out, trying not to sound too accusatory.

“Nobody actually arrives at seven. If a party starts at seven, most people don’t turn up until nine. I’m not even dressed.”

“I can see that,” Harry replies. He glances at Draco’s chest again, forcing his eyes upwards as heat crawls through his body. He rubs the back of his neck, which is slightly sweaty. _Fuck_. He can’t understand why his heart’s suddenly racing in his chest, why he’s so nervous and tongue-tied. He’s been on edge since he invited himself to the bloody party, a giddy excitement bubbling in his stomach. He spent ages choosing a nice jumper and a decent pair of black jeans. He even dug out the Chelsea boots he chucked in the back of his cupboard after getting them on sale because Ginny said they looked cool and then promptly never wore again. Now he feels oddly self-conscious, like he used to when he went out in Dudley’s old cast-offs.

“You look nice.” Draco gives Harry a quick look up and down, before grabbing a couple of highly polished champagne flutes. He hands one to Harry and puts the other on a nearby table, popping the cork on a bottle that he pulls from a silver bucket full of ice. He pours Harry a drink, the scent of his now familiar cologne and freshly-washed hair, maddening and delicious. Harry clinks his glass with Draco’s and takes a sip, the fizz getting into his nostrils and making him cough.

“Ginny made me buy the boots. I don’t really wear them.”

“You should.” Draco’s lips tips into a half smile and he gestures at Harry’s jumper. “I like the jumper, too. Very Slytherin. Cashmere, is it?”

Harry glances at his jumper, the fact he’s wearing what can only be described as Slytherin-green cashmere to Draco Malfoy’s party suddenly hitting him. He tugs the hem and shrugs, working his finger around the neckline which feels a little tight all of a sudden.

“No idea. It was a gift.”

“Ah.” Draco has a sip of his champagne, seemingly in no rush to get dressed. Harry doesn’t want to be a prude, but he also wishes Malfoy would do his shirt up. It’s really quite unsettling. “Weasley, again?”

“Yeah. Not Ginny, though. Bill.”

“Oh?” Draco’s eyes flare with interest and he studies Harry thoughtfully. “I didn’t know you and he were—”

“We aren’t. We weren’t. Christ, no.” Harry’s palms sweat, and he takes another gulp of his champagne. “I think his wife Fleur chose it. They’ve got oodles of cash. Curse-breaking is pretty lucrative, on account of the fact that people will pay a fair bit to get their curses broken.”

“I can imagine.” Draco’s lips twitch as if he’s amused.

“I didn’t realise….” Harry trails off, gesturing towards Draco’s stomach. His eyes are drawn again to the slender curve of it, the light hair trailing from his belly button down to his belt buckle and the flex and clench of his torso that seems to respond to Harry’s gaze like it would to the touch. Harry isn’t sure how to finish his sentence. How do you say to someone that you’re sorry for leaving them scarred?

“These?” Draco runs his finger lightly over the marks on his stomach before meeting Harry’s gaze again. “I might have ended up with a lot worse if you hadn’t done everything that came after. I’ve heard death by Fiendfyre is particularly excruciating. I think I can forgive you.”

“Still.” Harry swallows around the lump in his throat. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know and I didn’t care. It was stupid of me.”

Draco shrugs. “I was pretty stupid back then too, in case you’d forgotten.” He gives Harry a sharp smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. “I tell people I was wounded in battle, sometimes. When I’m pretending to be a better man than I was. I suppose it’s true, in a manner of speaking. I just let them believe I was fighting on the right side.”

“Oh.” Harry isn’t sure how he feels about that. He looks back at the scars, his eyes trailing up to the slender clasp of Draco’s fingers around his glass, the peak of his nipples brushing against the thin material of the shirt, the angular line of his jaw and the smile he wears like a mask. “Do they believe you?”

Draco holds Harry’s gaze, his expression unreadable. “Sometimes. I’m not sure you would. You’d know straight away that I’m more the kind to run away from a battle than run towards it.”

“I would?” Harry arches an eyebrow at Draco. “What makes you so sure?”

“Auror intuition.” Draco takes a slow sip of his champagne. “Harry Potter’s famous gut instinct. You knew not to shake my hand.”

“Because you were being a pillock.” Harry rolls his eyes. “Ron was nice to me, you were a tit about his family. Of course I didn’t shake your hand.”

“Would you shake it now?” Draco says.

Harry wonders what Draco’s getting at. “Would you offer it?”

“Probably not for the same reasons.” Draco stares at the champagne in his glass, where the bubbles climb and slide over the translucent surface. “I doubt I would get away with lying to you in any event. Even if we were strangers. You would have every nasty little detail that came out of the trials and probably a few more from your time at the Ministry.”

“Perhaps.” Harry shrugs. “I don’t know why that scares you,” he continues, boldly. “Isn’t it better if somebody knows about your past and likes you anyway?”

“Maybe.” Draco expression remains cool. “Although that’s easy enough for you to say.”

“I just think it would be exhausting, pretending to be somebody else.” Harry pushes a hand through his hair. “If people don’t like me as I am, then I don’t particularly like them.”

A small smile plays over Draco’s lips. “Does nothing scare you, Potter?”

“No,” Harry says. It’s not true, of course. More things scare him than people might expect. He’s pretty bloody worried about why Draco gets him so hot and bothered for a start. He takes another sip of his champagne and doesn’t look away from Draco. “See, Malfoy? I can do it too. _Lie_.” He pulls a face. “Feels stupid.”

“I’m sure it does.” Draco sighs and tops up Harry’s glass. “I’m going to finish getting dressed, I can’t very well greet my guests looking like this.” He flashes Harry his first proper smile of the evening. “They might think you’ve been corrupting me.”

“Ha, ha. Go and put some clothes on.”

Harry watches Draco disappears, the idea of _corrupting_ Draco sending a hot flush of pleasure through him.

Not for the first time, he wonders what it is about the evening that has him so unsettled and nervy. He decides to take it easy on the champagne and deposits his glass on an ostentatious silver coaster, slowly beginning to explore Malfoy’s living room and pushing all thoughts of Draco in his unbuttoned shirt to the back of his mind.

*

The first few guests do a double-take when they see Harry, chatting to Draco.

“This is unexpected.” Theodore Nott arches an eyebrow at Draco and extends his hand to Harry. “Potter.”

“Nott.” Harry shakes Nott’s’s hand. “Harry’s fine. If you like.”

“Of course,” Nott replies, crisply. “Everybody calls me Theo. Blaise here is fine with Blaise, Zabini or _gorgeous_ , aren’t you, darling?”

“Fuck you, Theodore.” Blaise rolls his eyes and shakes Harry’s hand, his smile unexpectedly warm. “Nice to see you again, Harry.”

“You too.” Harry smiles at Blaise, not sure why he feels so tongue-tied around Slytherins he couldn’t give two hoots about at school. Blaise and Theo both look like something from a glossy Muggle magazine. Even in his nice jumper and polished boots, Harry is more casual than them both. An awkwardness crawls through him and a self-awareness about everything from his looks to his outfit that he’s never really experienced before. He shakes the strange, unsettling feeling away and says hello to the third man—Philip—whose greeting is cooler than Blaise and Theo’s.

“Is there something you want to tell us, Draco?” Blaise glances between Harry and Draco, as if he’s trying to work out what’s going on. It occurs to Harry slower than it should that they could very well suspect he and Draco are romantically involved. The thought makes him hot around the collar and he takes a gulp of his drink, letting Draco deal with the question.

“Potter here has been helping me with something, so I invited him for drinks.” Draco glances at Harry. “I suppose you could say we’re friends.”

“You’re friends with _Harry Potter_?” Philip gives Harry a peculiar look. “I never would have believed it.”

“Why’s that?” Harry tries to keep his voice casual, Philip’s tone already rankling. “I don’t think it’s odd at all. We’ve got a lot of history, Malfoy and me.”

“You can say that again,” Theo comments. “Do you remember when Draco made those _Potter Stinks_ badges?”

“Quite crafty, weren’t you, Draco?” Blaise hoots with laughter. “ _Badges_. You’re so dramatic.”

“My badge-making days are over.” Draco’s cheeks get pink and he glares at Blaise. “Shut the fuck up, Zabini. You helped.”

“Reluctantly.” Blaise rolls his eyes. “Tormenting Potter was really more your personal crusade, if I remember.”

“ _Very_ personal.” Theo snickers. His expression lightens and he smiles at Harry. “Don’t mind us, we’re just winding Malfoy up. We love him dearly. It’s good of you to come.”

“It must be _so_ difficult coming to a nice home and drinking expensive champagne.” Philip huffs and pours himself a drink. “What a terrible hardship.”

Harry glares at Philip. “It’s not a hardship in the slightest, I never said it was.” He looks at Theo. “Thanks, Nott. It’s good to be here.”

Blaise turns to Philip. “What happened to your new man, Philip? I thought we were going to meet him tonight.”

Philip groans. “ _Bisexual_. Likes witches and wizards,” he adds, clearly for Harry’s benefit.

“Taking the Hogwarts Express to Gay Hogwarts, to put it bluntly.” Theo winks at Harry. “That’s the thing about bi men, they’re really just gay men clinging on to that last bit of heterosexuality. No offence.”

“None taken,” Harry murmurs. His stomach flips uncomfortably, his mouth suddenly dry. It’s not even the barely concealed suggestion that being straight is one big snooze fest that’s bothering him. It’s something else. Something about the idea of someone liking witches _and_ wizards. Harry’s heart thuds in his chest and he has a steadying sip of his champagne. He really needs to stop downing his drink every time something makes him nervous. At this rate he’s going to be falling all over the place and making a tit out of himself by ten.

“I should have known better,” Philip says, morosely. “He met a witch at a wedding over the weekend and apparently she’s much nicer than me.” He huffs, his mouth set in a mean line. “That’s bisexual for I’ve decided to go back into the closet because being straight makes my life easier.”

The comment makes Harry bristle unexpectedly. He’s got a good mind to tell Philip he finds it perfectly feasible that someone might find another person more interesting than him. Based on all early indications, Philip is a bit of a twat. Harry’s not surprised his boyfriend would prefer to be with someone else. Harry’s quite sure he would dump Philip pretty quickly too. He’s been borderline offensive since he arrived, and he keeps looking at Harry as if he resents him being there. Theo and Blaise have been much nicer, and they have a history with Harry that would make them far more likely to be rude, if they were so inclined.

“Why does it make life easier?” Harry looks at Theo and Blaise, pointedly ignoring Philip the Wanker. His voice is unsteady, and he clears his throat, running his hand over his jaw. “I’ve never heard of anyone being bisexual before. Not that I know much about any of it.”

Blaise gives Harry a brittle smile. “It’s easier because there’s no risk of anybody calling you a queer when you kiss your boyfriend somewhere in public and find out not all Muggles like that sort of thing. Not all wizards do, either.”

Harry swallows, remembering Draco’s fleeting nerves asking Harry to his party. He glances at Draco who’s studying his fingers, a frown on his face.

“Is it really that bad being gay?”

“No.” Draco drains his champagne and flicks his wand, calling over the bottle and topping up everyone’s glasses. “It’s not. Even if it is, it’s not something you ever have to worry about. Can we please change the subject? Homophobia does rather kill the mood.”

Blaise and Theo exchange glances and Harry wonders what he’s missing. Draco’s expression is cold and impassive, his composure fragile as an undercurrent of tension hums through the room.

“What time are the others getting here?” Theo changes the conversation quickly, his tone light. “Patrick owes me money. I paid for his cab from Chelsea to Hackney. Do you know how much that costs at four in the morning?”

Draco pulls a face. “I’m more concerned with why on earth he decided to move to Hackney.” He turns to Harry. “Theo has a Muggle property in London. We stay there sometimes, when we fancy going out. The Muggles have much better clubs than we do.” He gives Harry a half smile, his eyes lidded as he contemplates him. “I’m sure you know about that.”

“A bit.” Harry shrugs. He thinks now probably isn’t the time to bring up the bar in East London he used to frequent after the war. Hackney seems to attract the same level of disdain as bisexuality, and that’s saying something.

No matter how hard he tries, Harry can’t shake the desire to ask further questions and he makes a show of picking at the food before taking a seat next to Draco. When he’s sure the others are caught up in conversation, he turns to catch Draco watching him.

“Enjoying yourself?” Draco takes a sip of his champagne, his expression unreadable. “I expect you think it’s all very frivolous.”

“It’s nice to be out.” Harry glances at the champagne and gives Draco a sheepish smile. “I’d prefer a pint, but I don’t care if you want to drink champagne. It’s not bad for a change.”

“It’s _Cristal_. Not bad is one way of putting it.” Draco laughs under his breath, his cheeks flushing lightly. “It’s just our way. My way. I’m not sure I know much else. It’s quiet at the minute, but it will pick up later. There might be dancing.”

“I’m a rubbish dancer. I’ve got two left feet.” Harry grins at Draco. A warm swoop of affection takes him by surprise. Draco’s party is both exactly what he expected and nothing like he imagined. He has the distinct impression that Draco is seeing his world through Harry’s eyes and finding all the flaws, and Harry doesn’t want him to do that. “I hate going to Ministry things because if I don’t dance Skeeter writes an article about how I’m lonely, miserable and pining for Gin, and if I _do_ dance, well.” Harry pulls a face. “It’s not pretty.”

“I could teach you, if you like.” Draco looks at Harry, his eyes dark. “Mother and father made me have lessons.”

Harry tries not to laugh, masking it beneath a cough. “They did?”

Draco glares. “Laugh all you like, Potter. At least I can go to a formal function without stepping all over the toes of visiting dignitaries.”

Harry laughs properly this time, shaking his head. “Why don’t you teach me in return for the driving lessons, if you’re so offended by my crap grasp of wizarding etiquette?”

“I will,” Draco decides. He glances at Harry. “I’ll let you lead.”

“Okay.” Harry holds Draco’s gaze, his heart quickening. “I’m happy to learn both ways.”

“Is that so?” Draco murmurs.

“Yeah.” Harry’s palms get clammy and he checks to make sure nobody is listening. “Do you think they’re right about bisexuals?”

Draco’s eyes widen and he stares at Harry. “Why on earth do you care about that?”

“Just curious.” Harry tries to make it sound bright and breezy even though it isn’t bright and breezy at all.

“I have no idea.” Draco relaxes back into his seat and seems to be picking his words carefully. “It’s never come up for me, before.”

“Oh.” Harry’s stomach squirms as the conversation continues around him. He’s not sure he likes the comments people made very much, but he’s also not sure he can articulate _why_. He just knows that he feels odd, ashamed and a bit unsettled by it all. To his knowledge he doesn’t know anyone bisexual, but instinctively he can’t see why it’s so difficult to believe somebody could find romantic love with all different kinds of people or nobody at all. “Never?”

“No. Never.” Draco’s eyes narrow as he studies Harry. “Something on your mind, Potter?”

“I don’t think so.” Harry frowns at his glass of champagne before taking another sip. The bubbles fizz against his tongue. Harry doesn’t know why he’s so fixated on some stupid comments from Draco’s friends when his entire sexual history comprises of a girl who cried when he kissed her, a love affair with Ginny that burned brightly for about two years before fizzling out entirely and a handful of one-night stands with women.

Harry steals a glance at Draco who’s watching him as if he’s trying to work something out. The word _bisexual_ rolls around in Harry’s head and he wishes he could talk about it more, but it feels wrong to push when he doesn’t know why he’s so invested in the first place. Not many things frighten Harry but there’s something terrifying about dwelling on the topic. It makes him feel panicky in a way he hasn’t been for a very long time. He gulps his champagne again, coughing as it goes down the wrong way.

“Harry?” Draco’s voice is low and smooth, and for a minute Harry wishes everything else would fade away. He thinks he might be able to keep talking if the room wasn’t humming with the beginnings of a long night, and the promise of new arrivals due to step through the Floo at any moment.

“It’s fine.” Harry looks across at Draco. “Really, it’s fine.”

“Okay.” Draco takes a sip of his champagne. “If you ever have anything you want to discuss….”

“Yeah, thanks.” Harry shakes his head. “Not tonight. Not here. Maybe another time.”

An odd expression crosses Draco’s slim features. “Whenever you like.” He lowers his voice, his eyes stormy and expressive as he holds Harry’s gaze. “I’m happy to be at your service, Potter. If you have any…needs.”

Oh _fuck_. Harry is in so much trouble. He’s only just heard the word bisexual but something about it keeps niggling at him, and he can’t shake off the strange, restless feeling the word incites. Nobody in this room seems to like bisexuals much which doesn’t help, but also the idea that Harry might be a little bit bisexual for Draco sodding Malfoy makes him more panicked than anything. Draco with his driving gloves, posh parties and expensive champagne. Draco who Snitch loves because she’s easy with her affections like that. Harry swallows around the lump in his throat, taking in Draco’s outfit. Unfortunately for Harry, Draco Malfoy is fit as fuck. _Handsome_ , even. Definitely shaggable. Very, very shaggable.

It’s like the final pieces of the jigsaw puzzle are slotting into place and everything is a little clearer, brighter and bolder than before. _Maybe I’m bisexual?_ Harry says to himself, testing it out. He can’t be sure but it feels right, somehow. Like it fits. He wonders how it might feel to say it out loud, but he’s definitely not ready to do that, particularly if people are going to be dicks about it. Harry has faced up to idiots with bad opinions before, but he’d like to at least know what he’s on about before he starts challenging Draco’s friends to duels. Nevertheless, the thought that Harry might have to fight his corner scares him far less than the other place his feverish mind keeps going.

 _I fancy Draco Malfoy_.

That admission is bigger than everything else.

*

Just as Draco predicted, most of the guests arrive at around nine o’clock. By the time it gets to ten, the room is heaving and Harry has lost track of the amount of people he’s been introduced to. Most of the guests are men, and Harry supposes most of them are gay men. Draco is in his element, more relaxed and flamboyant than usual. Harry can’t help but wonder if Draco puts on something of a mask when he’s around Harry—making himself _straighter_ somehow. He hopes not. It makes his chest ache to think that he might not trust Harry not to judge him for exactly who he is. Harry knows he can be judgmental sometimes—he’s judged Draco for plenty of things in the past—but not for this. Never for this.

“You must be special.” A man dressed in a wildly patterned shirt open almost to the navel takes a seat next to Harry. He reaches behind them for a bottle of champagne and tops up his glass. Harry think his name is Dick or Nick or something. He can’t remember.

“Special?” Harry gives Rick—that’s it, _Rick_ —a curious glance.

“Yeah.” Rick has a sip of his champagne, looking around the room. “He doesn’t invite his straight friends to these as a rule.”

Even though he came out—to himself—about three seconds ago, Harry still finds himself bristling slightly at the assumption.

“You’re assuming I’m straight?” Harry looks gloomily at his outfit, wondering if it’s his shit taste in clothes that gives him away. He feels as if he’s got a sign that says _heterosexual_ on his forehead that has everybody in the room looking at it suspiciously. It occurs to him that maybe gay people feel like that around straight  
people sometimes, and he looks at Draco again, more at ease than Harry’s ever seen him.

“You’re not straight?” Rick turns to Harry properly, the prospect clearly piquing his interest. “Sorry, mate. I thought you liked witches. It’s been in all the papers. That Quidditch player, and the thing with that one from the Ministry.” He winks. “Very complimentary about you, she was.”

Harry winces, because he remembers that particular story very well indeed. It turns out there’s nothing flattering in the slightest about having the size of your dick discussed in the paper—even if the reports are good. That kind of story is exactly why Harry doesn’t really have one night stands anymore. It’s rubbish, because the only thing a period of self-imposed celibacy has given him is a hard-on for Draco bloody Malfoy.

Harry has a swig of his champagne. “I don’t know what I am. _Mate_ ,” he adds, a little grumpily. “Maybe I like both.” It makes his whole body hot, saying it out loud. Part of him wants to clink his glass and announce it to the room, and the other part hopes to Merlin nobody’s around to overhear the conversation.

“Heteroflexible, are you?” Rick says with a grin. “Because I can be, you know, _flexible_. I’m very discreet.”

“I’m good.” Harry wonders what the fuck’s up with everyone being so opposed to this bisexuality thing. Rick can’t even say the word. He makes a note to enquire about this heteroflexible thing, too. Not that he knows who he’s going to ask about this. Probably Hermione. She knows about basically everything. “Thanks, though.”

“No problem.” Rick stands and stretches. “My bloke’s over there, I’ll see you in a bit. Nice to meet you, Harry.”

“Your bloke?” Harry stares at Rick. “Didn’t you _just_ offer to shag me?”

“Oh, that.” Rick shrugs. “Yeah, we’re open. Both of us are poly.” He winks. “He’d be interested too, if you’re after a three-way.”

“Oh,” Harry says, gloomily. “Brilliant.”

He adds _poly_ to the list of _questions for Hermione_ that’s growing longer by the minute.

*

“Having a good time?” Draco leans against the wall next to Harry, a wide smile on his face. “Rick seems to like you.”

“I got that impression.” Harry hopes Rick didn’t mention his _perhaps I like both_ confession to Draco. He wants to tell Draco himself. Preferably when nobody else is around because even the thought of doing so makes him perspire. “It’s a good laugh.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Draco’s shirt is more unbuttoned than it was earlier and he’s got a slightly dishevelled look about him. It makes Harry think all manner of things he probably shouldn’t be thinking about Draco. Draco calls out to Theo and Blaise who are deep in conversation nearby. “What on earth are you two gossiping about?”

Theo flashes Draco a smile. “We’re reminiscing. Do you remember the games we used to play at Hogwarts?”

“I remember Quidditch if that’s what you mean,” Draco replies, tightly. “Other than that, I haven’t the foggiest.”

“How peculiar.” Theo’s smile turns smug. “I was just saying that we might want to think about resurrecting Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

“We’re a little old for party games, Theo.” Draco glares at Theo who’s clearly enjoying a private joke.

“I seem to remember you were very fond of the idea of this game back at Hogwarts.” Theo stretches his legs in front of him, tapping his lip with his finger. “What—or should I say who—was the appeal? Can you remember, Zabini?”

“I honestly couldn’t give a fuck, Theo.” Blaise rolls his eyes, then grins at Draco. “I do think we should play, though.”

“Seven Minutes in Heaven?” Harry looks at Blaise, raising his eyebrows.

“Two people are chosen at random and they have to spend seven minutes locked in a cupboard together. Personally, I prefer Truth or Dare. What do you say, Malfoy?”

“ _No_ ,” Draco hisses. He looks paler than usual if such a thing is possible. He shoots Harry a panicked look and then points a finger at Theo, his cheeks flushing. “You’re a prick.”

“I’m just making a suggestion for a game, darling. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“ _Fine_.” Draco grits his teeth. “We’ll play. Potter here doesn’t have to get involved.”

“Why?” Harry narrows his eyes at Draco.

Draco makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “Because you don’t want to feel up men in a cupboard, Potter.”

Harry folds his arms, holding Draco’s gaze. “I might.”

There’s a deathly silence and then the room fills with whoops and hollers from those near enough to hear the conversation.

“Oh dear,” Blaise says. He’s trying not to laugh. “This changes everything.”

“Well I never.” Theo winks at Draco. “Maybe you’ll get lucky tonight after all, Malfoy.”

Draco just stares at Harry, pink spots blooming on his cheeks. He looks furious. “Don’t you dare make fun of me,” he snaps. “Don’t you dare come here and make fun of _us_.”

“I’m not, you stupid arse.” Harry’s stomach turns and anger pulses through him as he glares at Draco. “Why the hell do you think I’m going to take the piss out of you for who you love, or shag or whatever it is you do?”

“Because you’re a judgmental arsehole!” Draco’s voice rises.

“I’m _not_.” Harry curls his fingers into fists. “You think I’m judgmental because I don’t like people calling my best friend a _Mudblood_? Because I think—and I still think by the way—that Death Eaters were dicks? If that makes me judgmental, then yeah, I am. I hated that shit and I _still_ hate that shit. I don’t know why you’re convinced I’m some massive homophobic wanker because I hate the people that killed my parents and everything they stand for.” Harry stops for a minute, his breathing heavy. The whole room is quiet, the tension between he and Draco crackling as Draco rounds on him, his body tense like a tightly coiled spring.

“Now I know what you really think of me, Potter.” Draco’s cheeks are flushed a deep pink and his eyes flash furiously. “That shit you hate is _my_ shit. I was one of those people you think are dicks, just like my parents. I bet this makes you sick, doesn’t it?” Draco shoves up his sleeve and brandishes his forearm, the grotesque mark of Voldemort still dark on his pale skin. Harry doesn’t miss the way Draco’s hand shakes as he extends his arm, or the deep marks etched into the skin as if somebody has tried to carve the Dark Mark right off.

“Do I think Voldemort’s brand is gross? Yeah, I do—”

“—I knew it!” Draco crows.

“You don’t know _anything_.” Harry wraps his fingers around Draco’s wrist, holding him steady. “I’m pretty sure you’re not sitting around waiting for him to come back and call you with that thing. I’d say you’d be as fucked off as I would if that happened.”

“It still makes you sick,” Draco says. “You don’t know what I went through.”

“You don’t know what _I_ went through.” Harry curses under his breath. “You’re so fucking arrogant, sometimes. The thing is, Malfoy, you’d love to hate me, wouldn’t you? Because I know all about your past, and you can’t stand that. I don’t need you to show me your arm, because I already know what’s there.”

“As do half of the people here.” Draco looks at Harry, wild-eyed. “I know you think you’re better than me.”

Harry’s furious anger leaves him as quickly as it came. “I probably did, once. That doesn’t mean I still do.”

“You should.” Draco’s voice gets smaller and he yanks his hand away from Harry’s grip. “You _are_ better than me. What the fuck have I done? You saved the world. The great Harry Potter,” he says with a sneer.

Harry shakes his head. “You can’t half be a stupid twat, Malfoy.”

“Oh brilliant.” Draco rolls his eyes. “Thanks for your insight. Now I feel much better.” He deflates and he suddenly seems younger than ever.

Harry touches his fingers to Draco’s arm, resting them over the Dark Mark. “I’m not afraid of your past. I’m not bothered by it, not in the way you think. I’m here, aren’t I? Here because I _like you_.”

“Then you’re even more fucked up than I am,” Draco mutters.

It makes Harry impossibly sad, looking at Draco’s wretched expression. Now he’s in no doubt that Draco’s more guarded around Harry than he is with his friends, but he can see it goes far deeper than _gay_ and _straight_ or whatever the bloody hell Harry is. Perhaps that’s why Draco’s been so determined to paint Harry as some kind of intolerant bigot. It’s easier to process your own flaws when you can tell yourself everybody has their prejudices.

“Don’t be an idiot.” Harry sighs. “We’re friends, I thought. I didn’t like you at school, but I know as well as anyone that people can change. I know _you’ve_ changed. Just because I didn’t like you then, doesn’t mean I don’t like you now.” Harry swallows, his throat tight as Draco stares at him. “I think you’re a terrible driver, you throw posh parties that make me feel like a right tit and I don’t know why my dog’s gone and fallen in love with you.” He moves his fingers from Draco’s arm, resisting the urge to pull him closer. “But I like you.”

“Despite my past, my bad driving, my posh parties and—”

“No,” Harry interrupts. “I just like _you_ and everything that comes with it.”

Draco swallows, his throat bobbing. He slides his shirt sleeve back over his arm and downs his champagne, holding out the glass which Theo takes silently. He buttons the cuff with trembling fingers and refuses to meet Harry’s gaze.

“It doesn’t matter,” Draco says, eventually. “You still can’t play.”

“Why?” Harry glares at Draco. “What are you so scared of?”

“I’m not scared of anything.” Draco looks up at Harry, his lips pressing into a tight line. “I just don’t think you’d like it, that’s all.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “It’s a party, I haven’t been to a party in bloody ages and I’ve got a mountain of marking waiting for me tomorrow, so I just want to enjoy the night. I don’t give a fuck who I’m trapped in a cupboard with. I’m not sitting out any games and definitely not because you think I can’t handle it.”

“You couldn’t bloody well handle it,” Draco mutters.

“Try me.” Harry folds his arms and frowns at Draco.

“Do we need to pull names out of a hat or do we have volunteers?” Theo breaks the silence at last and murmurs fill the room. Harry winces, glancing at Draco and muttering under his breath.

“Are you always so dramatic?”

“Sometimes.” Draco’s face cracks into a small smile and he looks at Harry before turning back to Theo and Blaise.

“God, just let them get on with it. I can’t stand the tension,” Philip says. He gives Harry a snooty look.

“We should do it fairly.” Blaise flicks his wand and an empty silver ice-bucket bobs in his direction. He tears off strips of parchment, making a show of writing people's names, before pulling two from the bucket. “Well, well. Will you look at that? Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. How unexpected.” He winks at Theo who snorts with laughter.

“It’s a damn fix.” Draco turns on Blaise. “I’m not inviting you next month, you’re as bad as Theodore.”

“Does it bother you that much?” Blaise raises his eyebrows at Draco. “ _Really?_ ”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I don’t know why you’re behaving like such a twat, Malfoy. You spend every Friday in a tiny car with me. I’m sure we can manage seven minutes in a cupboard without killing one another.”

“I don’t think it’s murder Draco’s worried about,” Theo murmurs.

“You never told us Potter was the driving instructor we’ve been hearing so much about,” Blaise comments. He smirks at Draco.

“Shut _up_ you absolute cretin.” Draco sends a hex towards Blaise which makes him yelp. “I’m going to put you in a cupboard with a Boggart after this, see how you like those seven minutes.” He turns around to look at Harry, his expression defeated. “Come on, Potter. Let’s get this over with.”

“Gladly.” Harry gives Blaise and Theo a curious look. He can’t help but feel there’s something more to this than Draco being a brat. He follows Draco through the Manor as the noise of the party filters away behind them. “Wait up will you!” He grabs Draco’s wrist and makes him stop. “What the fuck’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing.” Draco pointedly refuses to look at Harry, his jaw working. After a minute he looks at Harry, clearly struggling with something. “It’s possible that Blaise and Theo have an idea that I used to fancy you.”

“Oh.” Harry stares at Draco, his heart pounding quicker. “Do you? I mean, did you?”

“No of course I didn’t, you arrogant berk.” Draco’s cheeks flush despite his words. “We were drinking one night, and we all had to say who we would want to spend seven minutes in heaven with. I said you.”

“You did?” Harry’s skin gets hot and the air in the quiet corridor is suddenly dry. He pushes up his jumper sleeves and tugs at the neck of it with his finger. “Why?”

“Because I’m afraid of the dark,” Draco says, through gritted teeth. “Harry Potter isn’t scared of anything.”

Harry laughs, low in his throat. His heart rate returns to a normal speed and he shrugs, giving Draco a sheepish smile. “Well sorry to disappoint. I don’t much like the dark either. Not anymore.”

“God.” Draco deflates, his expression forlorn. “This is why they say you should never get to know your heroes.”

“I’m hardly your _hero_ , you prat.”

“No?” Draco shakes his head. “You were the closest thing a lot of us had, even if we didn’t act like it.” He sighs. “Come on, we should get in the cupboard. Maybe we can just cast _Lumos_ , even if it’s against the rules. I can’t imagine anybody will bother looking for us. They’ve probably moved onto something else now they’ve had their fun.”

“We don’t need a _Lumos_ ,” Harry says. “I don’t like being alone in the dark. I don’t mind if someone else is there.”

“You’re such a strange creature.” Draco walks them through the corridors, stopping in front of a mahogany cupboard. It’s big enough to accommodate both of them, but it seems like it might be a tight squeeze. Harry’s heart rate increases again, and he swallows, thickly.

“Do this a lot?” Harry eyes the cupboard, wondering how many people have been inside with Draco.

“No. Hardly ever. Once or twice when we were younger, that’s how Theo and Blaise know about it.” Draco rolls his eyes at Harry. “It’s not that sort of party, Potter.”

“It seems to be tonight,” Harry replies.

“Yes, well. That’s because you came along and buggered everything up.”

“I think it’s because your friends are trying to matchmake.”

“Well they should stop it. I’m not fifteen. I don’t need their help.” Draco yanks open the door to the cupboard.

“I’m sure you don’t. Still, it’s nice of them to try.”

“There’s nothing nice about it.” Draco hesitates and Harry eyes the cupboard with trepidation.

“We don’t have to do this. We could just wait seven minutes then go back.”

Draco looks triumphant. “I knew you couldn’t handle it.”

Harry’s competitive spirit returns with force and he steps into the cupboard belligerently. “Want to bet?”

Draco glares at Harry before murmuring something under his breath. He pushes a hand through his hair and steps inside, yanking the door shut behind them.

The _snick_ of the door plunges the small space into absolute darkness and the shadows and ghosts of the past fill Harry’s mind. He pushes all the nightmares to one side and focuses on Draco’s shallow breathing, trying to find a comfortable place to stand. In the end, he settles for moving closer to Malfoy. His heart thrums wildly in his chest as he slides his hand over Draco’s arm, feeling the beat of his pulse beneath his thumb.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Draco’s voice is reed thin, his breathing ragged.

“I’m not sure.” Harry fights back the slightly hysterical urge to laugh. “Isn’t this what we’re supposed to do?” He shifts a little closer, not wanting to push too much.

“You’re aware of the irony of starting this in a _closet_ ,” Draco says. “I hope.”

“I’m aware.”

“What are you doing?” Draco repeats, even as he slides his hands onto Harry’s hips and pulls him close against his body as he falls back against the wall of the cupboard with a low _thud_.

“I’m pretending I’m not afraid of the dark,” Harry replies. He closes the distance between them, moving with snail-like speed so Draco every opportunity to stop him.

Draco doesn’t. Instead, he pulls Harry closer and finishes the job Harry started. The kiss squishes Harry’s glasses against his cheeks and he pulls away with a laugh. “Wait. Fuck, these stupid things.” He yanks off his glasses and mutters a quick spell to shrink them, before shoving them in his pocket with a hurried protective charm that he hopes works.

He leans in again, slipping his hand from Draco’s arm to the back of his head and deepening the earlier, tentative kiss. It turns out that kissing Draco is a very effective way to chase away the demons that lurk in the shadows when there’s no light shining into the darkness. If anything, the darkness and the forced proximity of the small space that smells like mothballs, boozy breath and cologne heightens the sensation. Kissing Draco is just as warm, natural and dizzying as all of Harry’s best kisses with witches. Draco’s mouth is hot and pliant against Harry’s, his lips firm and insistent.

It gets Harry hotter and harder than it should, thinking about how many times Draco’s kissed, fucked and sucked other men. There’s something quite compelling about being the one with less experience—letting Draco take the lead. It sends a hot, jealous pleasure through Harry as he realises Draco probably knows what he’s doing. It makes him moan into the kiss as he pulls Draco closer into his arms. He’s pleased to find that even when the space is as dark as a starless midnight, Draco’s face is seared into Harry’s brain. It’s not just kissing that’s making him hard, or the fact it’s been a while. It’s not good because it’s dark enough to imagine a faceless witch or a body with different kinds of curves. As he parts his mouth and Draco’s hot tongue slides against his own, Harry knows with absolute certainty that his body is responding eagerly to the fact he’s kissing Draco Malfoy.

“I’m so….” Harry groans against Draco’s lips and presses as close to him as he can, his cock aching for friction. “ _You’re so_ ….” He trails off, his words lost again in the insistent pressure of Draco’s lips.

“You’re so hard.” Draco pulls Harry tight against his body, grinding into him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“You too.” Harry kisses Draco’s neck and mouths along the line of his jaw. They’re almost exactly the same size, with Draco just the slightest bit taller than Harry. It’s the first time Harry’s had to even tip his neck into a kiss, and it makes his head spin when Draco manoeuvres them so Harry’s the one pressed against the cupboard wall.

“Too much?” Draco grinds against Harry and it sends heat flooding through Harry as he dimly realises that Draco’s hard too. It’s different, but not _bad_ different. The thought of getting his hands on Draco’s cock—of sucking Draco off—makes Harry harder still. He might not know what the fuck he’s doing but he’s relieved, happy and the slightest bit terrified to find out he wants to do every last thing that Draco’s willing to show him.

“Not enough.” Harry shoves his hand under Draco’s shirt, working open the buttons with the other. “Is that fucking door locked?”

Draco takes out his wand and murmurs a locking charm, his wand clattering to the floor as he drops it by his side. “It is now.”

“Good.” Harry groans against Draco’s mouth and shoves open his shirt, biting lightly on a sliver of exposed flesh on his collarbone. “You make me so horny.”

“Are you sure it’s not those months without sex making you horny?” Draco sounds amused, but the rough notes in his voice indicate he’s far from unaffected.

“Bit of both, maybe.” Harry laughs and shifts his hands down to Draco’s trousers, making a strangled, frustrated sound. “You’re gonna have to help me here, Malfoy. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, remember?”

“I’m sure you’ve tossed yourself off before, Potter. Wanker that you are.” Draco laughs under his breath, but his words aren’t cruel and mean. He presses his lips to the shell of Harry’s ear, his breath hot and rough-edged, his deft fingers working open Harry’s trousers. “It’s a different angle—different horses for different courses sometimes too—but just start with what you like to do when you’re by yourself, thinking about me. We can go from there.”

“F-fuck. Okay.” Harry lets the _thinking about me_ slide, because there’s the distinct possibility he has been thinking about Draco the last few times. He works open Draco’s trousers, but loses all ability to reciprocate when Draco wraps his slim fingers around him through his pants. “Holy _fuck_.” His head thuds back against the cupboard and he yanks Draco into a messy kiss. “It’s been a while. Don’t think it’ll be long.”

“ _Yes_.” Draco sounds surprisingly turned on by the fact Harry’s about to come in his boxers. “God you’re so fucking _wet_.” He thumbs over the slit of Harry’s cock, pressing the damp cotton of his boxers against it. “You really like this, don’t you?” He sounds bemused.

“Yeah, I do.” Harry bites back a hiss when Draco shoves his pants and trousers down, his cock springing free. “ _Please_ , just do something.”

Draco mutters a spell and wraps a cool hand around Harry’s cock. It’s slick with lube and the sensation makes Harry buck into the circle of Draco’s fist. Something clatters in the cupboard, but Harry honestly couldn’t give a fuck. All he wants at the minute is to sink into the blissful heat of Draco’s kisses and to lose himself in the sensation of Draco’s hand working over his aching prick.

It doesn’t take long for Harry to come, his breath leaving him with a grunt. His legs are so shaky, it’s a wonder he doesn’t slip to the floor. He gulps in the musty air in the cupboard and runs his hands slowly over Draco’s hot skin. He knows his palms are sweaty and gross, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Can I, err, get you?”

“Can you _get_ me?” Draco sounds far too pleased with himself for Harry’s liking.

“Can I toss you off? Return the favour, suck your cock, I don’t know.” Harry groans and closes his eyes. “Whatever.”

“I told you, just—”

“—I know what you told me.” Harry has never been happier about being in a pitch-black space, because he knows his cheeks are hotter than ever. “I want you to show me,” he says, through gritted teeth.

“Oh.” Draco sounds surprised. He leans into Harry and begins to mouth over his neck, murmuring against his skin. “Does that turn you on or something?”

“Maybe.” Harry swallows, arching his neck for more of Draco’s kisses. “Yes, alright? Yes, it fucking does.”

“I never would have guessed,” Draco murmurs. He sounds like he’s touching himself and the jerk of his arm leaves Harry breathless. “Put your hand around mine.”

“Okay.” Harry slips his hand between them, wrapping his fingers around Draco’s. “It’s not that I don’t want to do it myself,” he mutters. “I’d suck you off if there was room.”

“There’s room.” Draco’s voice is breathless. “I just want to see your face if we do that.”

“ _Fuck_.” Harry squeezes his hand around Draco’s, nuzzling into his neck and following the motion of his hand. “You do?”

“Mmm.” Draco’s voice is low and ragged, sinfully decadent. “We could take that car of yours out somewhere quiet and I’d make you suck me off. Put you on your knees and watch you taking me in your mouth. Teaching you how to deep-throat. I bet you’d look so lovely doing that.”

“Yeah—I—” Harry bites back a groan, his hand working more quickly. Draco slides his fingers away, leaving Harry to touch him properly. He continues as Draco started, taking in the girth and length of him, the hard heat of the velvety flesh. It’s crazy how much having Draco Malfoy’s cock in his hand turns him on. Harry wishes they had more time, that this was just the start of the night.

“You’re so hot, Potter.” Draco’s voice is low and he sounds as though he’s on the cusp of climax. “So hot, and you don’t even realise it, do you?”

Harry moves his free hand to Draco’s hair and pulls him into a fierce, mind-melting kiss.

It’s not long after that Draco comes over Harry’s fingers and the air between them is hot, sweaty and smells like the best kind of sex Harry’s had in a very long time.

*

By the time Harry and Draco leave the cupboard, it’s been well after the allotted seven minutes and the house is quiet and still. As they make their way back towards the party, Harry pats his hair and wonders if he looks as dishevelled and well-kissed as he feels. He glances at Draco, feeling Draco watching him as they walk. Part of him wants to tell Draco that he thinks there’s a good chance he’s bisexual, but there’s another part of him that wants to process it first. It’s a happy, curious secret that unfurls inside him with every moment the night continues, but Harry can’t help the way the memory of people laughing and joking dampens his excitement. He’s not sure he’s ready to talk to Draco about something he’s only just working out for himself.

“I might go, soon.” Harry looks at Draco. “Not because of…you know. Because it’s late and Snitch doesn’t like being alone for too long. I’ve left her with the neighbour, but I said I’d be back at midnight.”

“Before you turn into a pumpkin, I suppose.” Draco shoots Harry a half smile. “Are we still on for next Friday?”

“The lesson?” Harry nods. “Of course, why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know.” Draco shrugs.

“Well, well. The wanderers return.” Theo gives Harry a sharp look that isn’t entirely friendly, and he raises an eyebrow in question at Draco, who shakes his head almost imperceptibly and pours himself another glass of champagne. “We made Zabini tell us about the twink from Stoke Newington he’s been slagging around with.”

“How delightful,” Draco murmurs. He sips his champagne and meets Harry’s eyes over the glass. “Potter here is leaving shortly. He has to get back to his dog.”

Blaise looks between Draco and Harry. “What a shame,” he says, with a faint air of judgment.

“She’s a rescue dog. She doesn’t like to be left alone. I said I’d be back at midnight, she’s with a neighbour.” Harry isn’t sure why he’s defending himself, but he can’t help but feel that Blaise and Theo are judging him. They probably think he’s fucking with Draco’s head, when it’s _Harry’s_ head that feels pretty fucked up at the minute. It’s a bit rich of them to start giving Harry the side-eye when they instigated the whole Seven Minutes in Heaven thing in the first place. He doesn’t see anyone else being sent off to Malfoy’s cupboard.

Harry moves towards Draco, because he’s the one he cares about at the minute and he stands awkwardly in front of him.

“You know what she’s like. I’d like to stay, if I could.”

Draco puts down his glass, pushing his hands into the pockets of his trousers as he looks at Harry. “You’d like to stay at the party?”

Harry shrugs. “Not really. Just…here.”

“Oh.” Draco clears his throat and then fiddles with the cuff of his shirt, not meeting Harry’s gaze. “Well. I’ll be over on Friday.”

“Good.” Harry swallows, wanting to give Draco a kiss to show he doesn’t give a fuck about making a public statement if that’s what Draco’s thinking. He just doesn’t know if Draco wants that, or even what sort of statement a kiss would make apart from confirming they got off together in a cupboard like two teenagers after a few glasses of expensive booze. He can see Philip giving them the eye and he lowers his voice so nobody else can hear. “Are you, umm.” He takes a breath because he really doesn’t have the right to ask what he wants to. “Are you planning to get off with anyone else?”

Draco looks up, narrowing his eyes. “Would you care if I did?”

“Yes,” Harry says, honestly. “I know I have no right to, but I would.”

“Oh.” Draco stares at Harry. “Then no. I don’t have any plans. I won’t.”

Relief surges through Harry and he gives Draco a sheepish grin. “Is it shit of me to ask?”

“No.” Draco meets Harry’s smile with one of his own. “Surprising, but not shit.” He looks at the cuff of his shirt again. “I quite like it. Perhaps I’m an odd fish too.”

“I’m not an _odd fish_.” Harry snorts. Feeling bold he brushes his thumb against the pulse point on Draco’s wrist, arousal flaring through him again. He really, really doesn’t want to leave. “Friday.”

“Mmhm.” Draco nods. “Looking forward to it.”

Harry says his goodbyes and stumbles through the Floo to the quiet of his house. He collects Snitch from the neighbour, laughing as she barrels into his arms. He carries her back to the house and decides to let her sleep on his bed, even though she has a perfectly good dog bed that he usually prefers she use. He wants the company, and it seems as though Snitch wants Harry close too. It occurs to him after cuddling her, that she can probably smell Malfoy on Harry’s skin.

“Oh, Snitch,” Harry says. “I think we like him, don’t we? I think we really like him.”

Snitch noses at Harry and gives a little _yip_ as if she agrees.

*

“I didn’t even know it was a thing,” Harry says. Snitch spreads herself out on Harry’s feet and rolls over, demanding to have her stomach rubbed. She’s been particularly clingy since Harry buggered off to Draco’s party and left her for the night. With a long-suffering sigh, Harry picks her up and fusses her despite the fact she’s really too big for his lap these days. She licks his face enthusiastically and paws at him, before settling herself awkwardly to be as close as she can. “This mate of Draco’s—Philip—doesn’t think it’s possible. He didn’t seem to like bisexuals much.”

Hermione mutters something under her breath that sounds like _what a wanker_. “Of course he doesn’t, Harry,” she replies, a little impatiently. “Some of Draco’s friends are probably idiots like that.”

“Bisexual.” Harry tries the word out, running his hand over Snitch’s wiry fur. “Hermione?”

“Yes, Harry?” Hermione’s eyes are warm and encouraging, her lips twitching into a smile.

“I think that’s what I am.”

“Oh good.” Hermione lets out a sigh of relief. “I think so too.”

“Excuse me?” Harry narrows his eyes at Hermione. “How the fuck did you know before I did?”

“I’m very perceptive.” Hermione takes a sip of her tea and sits back in her chair. “First there was Cedric, then Charlie—”

“I liked _Cho_ , not Cedric, are you mental?”

“Did you?” Hermione raises an eyebrow at Harry.

“Well.” Harry clears his throat. Now Hermione mentions it, Cedric did have very good hair. Excellent arms. The kind of thighs that always looked brilliant straddling a broom. He had a tendency to leave Harry a bit hot and bothered, but Harry always thought that was because he wanted to get off with Cedric’s girlfriend and the whole Triwizard debacle. He didn’t think for one minute that maybe he wanted to get off with _Cedric_. “Maybe Cedric was quite handsome—”

“—very handsome.”

“Fine.” Harry throws his hands up in defeat and Snitch slides off his lap, giving him a disgruntled look. He strokes her ears and she nudges his palm with her nose, seemingly forgiving him. “I don’t know what you’re on about with Charlie though.” Harry shudders. “It’d be like snogging Ron.” He winces. “No offence.”

“None taken.” Hermione laughs. “I’m actually quite glad you don’t want to run off into the sunset with my fiancé. You don’t have to apologise for that.”

“Good.” Harry is quite new to this bisexual thing. About twenty-four hours new to it, to be exact. He’s not quite sure how to behave, now a whole new world of possibility has opened up to him. “Do you know what poly means?”

“Polyamorous, I imagine. It works differently for different people, but I suppose being open to other partners might be a good way to describe it. Non-monogamous, but with agreement.”

“Oh.” Harry thinks about it for a minute. “I’m not sure I’m that.”

Hermione laughs. “You don’t have to be everything, Harry. Anyway, not all relationships are going to be the same. Why don’t you wait and see what Draco wants, first?”

Harry stares at Hermione. “Who said anything about Malfoy?”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “You do, quite frequently these days. I’m assuming he’s the reason you realised you might like wizards, too.”

Harry shakes his head. “How the hell do you do that?”

“Like I said, I’m very perceptive.”

Harry frowns, thinking about his unexpected night with Draco. “Malfoy didn’t exactly stop his friends from saying that stuff about bisexuality. Do you reckon he has an issue with it?”

“I’m not sure.” Hermione doesn’t look at Harry as she shrugs on her coat. “Maybe you should ask him.”

“I think I will,” Harry decides. His heart thumps in his chest, his palms getting suddenly clammy as a wave of fear crashes over him. “Are you going to tell Ron about this?”

Hermione frowns, looking up at Harry. “Not if you would prefer I didn’t.” She seems to be mulling over her words, before speaking softly. “I’m just not sure it’s very good keeping it to yourself. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I know that,” Harry says, even though there’s a flicker of something he can’t quite define that’s making him wonder if he truly believes that. He can’t help the way the dismissive comments from the previous evening keep coming back to him with force. He wishes he could get a Time-Turner and go back there to tell them how real it is. How real _he_ is. “I don’t want to keep it a secret either, I just want to get used to it for a while. For a few days at least.”

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione stands and presses a kiss to his cheek, pulling back and buttoning her coat. “You take as long as you need and Fire-Call me anytime.” Her throat works as she gives Harry a watery smile. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Oh my god, Hermione.” Harry’s cheeks get hot and he rubs his chin, feeling suddenly awkward. “It’s nothing. Don’t be stupid. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“Don’t be late.” Hermione blows Harry a kiss and exits through the Floo, leaving Harry with Snitch who licks his face as if she knows he’s got a lot on his mind.

“It’s going to be okay, isn’t it, Snitch?”

Snitch wags her tail and barks at Harry, bounding up at him. He needs to take her for a walk. Perhaps the fresh air might clear his mind.

“Come on then, Snitch-dog. Let’s go for a run.”

Snitch chases her own tail with a little whine of excitement and Harry watches her fondly.

 _It’s going to be okay_ , he tells himself. _I’m still the same person_.

Somehow though, that doesn’t feel quite right. He’s exactly the same person he was before Draco’s party and yet, in the cold light of the morning, he doesn’t feel like the same person at all. There’s a fire in his belly that flickers and flames, burning brighter with every passing moment. There’s a bright, hot clarity and understanding that sears through him and there’s a niggling fear, too. A fear that’s mostly outweighed by stubborn defiance, but it’s there, nevertheless. A little like being in a dark room without a wand and not knowing how to find the light.

“Harry Potter,” Harry tells himself sternly, “You faced Voldemort by yourself. Don’t let a posh twat with bad hair and a stupid name like Philip make you go back into a cupboard again.”

He feels a little better and he goes to get Snitch’s lead, putting on his running clothes and stepping outside into the brisk, winter air.

*

Draco laughs for a good minute when Harry tells him he’s bisexual, before the smile leaves his face entirely and he just looks confused. They’re sitting inside Flo at the Tesco’s carpark, so Draco can practice his three-point-turns. Draco has his hands dutifully in the ten-to-two position on the wheel, and he stares out of the windscreen instead of looking at Harry.

“I don’t know what’s so funny.” Harry rubs Snitch’s ears as she snoozes in his lap.

“Neither do I.” Draco finally looks at Harry. “I thought you were going to tell me you’re gay. That, or tell me last week was a big mistake and you’re straight. You can’t be bisexual,” he insists.

“I can, actually.” Even if he wasn’t, Harry would be minded to be bisexual just to fuck Draco off. He’s quite petty like that, sometimes. “I think I always have been, I just didn’t pick up on the signs, mainly because I didn’t know it was possible. Which is stupid, really. Why wouldn’t it be a thing?”

“Oh.” Draco seems stunned into silence. “Are you sure you’re not gay?”

“Positive.” Harry’s only had a week to do some soul-searching, but it’s been more than enough time to get out his collection of magazines and add a few more wizard-friendly publications to the stack. He thinks he would be just as open to meeting a nice witch as he would to meeting a nice wizard, if Draco Malfoy wasn’t the only person currently occupying his mind.

Draco narrows his eyes. “How do you know you’re not straight if you haven’t been with a man properly?”

“How did you know you were gay?” Harry shrugs. “Anyway, I have been with a man. Sort of.”

“Please.” Draco rolls his eyes. “If you’re referring to our drunken fumble in the cupboard, you’re going to be in for a rude awakening. That hardly scratches the surface of the things two men get up to together.”

“Really?” Harry feigns surprise. “I assumed those were your best moves.”

“Oh you wish I would use my best moves on you,” Draco replies. He pauses and then flicks his eyes over Harry. “Although I probably would, if you’re interested in seeing them.”

Harry laughs under his breath and nods. “I am, actually. I’m very interested.”

“Really?” Draco looks pleased with himself.

“Really.” Harry gives Draco a curious look. “Why does somebody being bisexual bother you so much?”

“It doesn’t, I suppose.” Draco wets his lips with his tongue. “I don’t like feeling insecure. It doesn’t help if you—I mean, a hypothetical person—could be happy with so many other people.”

Harry studies Draco. “You think you wouldn’t be enough for me—I mean, this hypothetical person—or something?”

Draco shrugs, picking at the corner of his thumbnail. “Maybe. This hypothetical person—let’s call him Barry—is probably too good for me anyway. He seems like the sort that might want all the things I don’t particularly want for myself. Perhaps he would be better with a witch who wants to get married and have lots of babies that can go on and be heroic, just like him.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Maybe Barry isn’t all he’s cracked up to be. He might be a bit of a tool. His kids could be terrible. They might disown him by the time they’re old enough.”

Draco laughs, his eyes bright as he looks at Harry. “I doubt that very much.” He rubs his cheek with his hand, the angular line of it looking very kissable. “Barry is quite remarkable, even though I wouldn’t want him to get a big head about that.”

“He won’t.” Harry’s breath gets shallow as his gaze falls to Draco’s lips. He’s not sure he’s wanted anything or anyone quite as much as this before. It’s been a long time since he felt like a teenager again, giddy and wine-drunk on desire. “It seems a bit stupid, doesn’t it?”

“What?” Draco frowns at Harry.

“I don’t know.” Harry shrugs. “Going off looking for something different when what you want is sitting right in front of you. You make it sound like Barry has a choice, as if there are all these witches and wizards out there and he could just pick any one of them and be happy. I’m not sure that’s right. He hasn’t found anyone he really wants to be with for ages. Until now.”

“Oh.” Draco stares at Harry. “I see.” He clears his throat and looks ahead again. “Perhaps Barry might want to think about the fact that choosing a different path might be easier. Not just when it comes to marriage, or those horrible kids he might not be having. People don’t always like two men together. They might not like Barry being with—well, whoever it is that Barry has his beady eyes on.”

Harry watches Draco quietly. “If you think Barry’s got all of these choices, why don’t you let him choose what’s going to make him happiest?”

Draco clutches the wheel more tightly, his knuckles getting even paler. “Because it’s possible his choice might not make Barry happy after all. By then everybody’s going to know he likes to suck cock and it will make everything harder for him.”

“Barry might not like sucking cock, we don’t know yet,” Harry replies, easily.

“He’d better,” Draco mutters. He glances at Harry. “I just want you to think about it.”

“I have.” Harry grins at Draco. “Anyway, I’m sure Barry’s pretty used to life throwing unexpected things in his direction. He’s scrappy like that.”

“He is.” Draco gives Harry a small smile, his expression bemused. “I don’t believe anything really scares you, Potter. No matter how much you tell me you’re afraid of the dark.”

“You’re wrong.” Harry swipes his tongue over his lips and holds Draco’s gaze, his voice low and unsteady. “I think I might be scared of you, but probably not for the reasons you think.”

“Yes.” Draco stares at Harry. “I think I might be scared of you too.”

For the first time, Draco manages a perfect three-point-turn and Snitch gives his face an enthusiastic lick in celebration.

Even as confusion bubbles within him, Harry takes his place in the driver’s seat and watches Draco fuss over Snitch. His heart gets a little bit bolder, a little bit fuller and a little bit warmer than before.

*

When they get back to Godric’s Hollow, Draco follows Harry indoors and closes the door behind them as Harry takes his coat off.

“What’s your view on polyamory, Malfoy?”

“Excuse me?” Draco turns from the door and glares at Harry. “You haven’t even sucked me off yet, and you’re already thinking about being with other people. I can’t believe you.”

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “No, I’m not thinking anything like that.” A thrill goes through him at the idea of getting on his knees for Draco, but he swallows back that thought while his brain is still functioning properly. “I just wondered. Rick mentioned it.” He pulls a face. “I didn’t know that was a thing, either. Hermione had to explain it to me.”

“What a sheltered life you lead, Potter.” Draco smirks. “It depends on the person. I’ve been in open relationships and monogamous relationships. Sometimes those monogamous relationships involved inviting someone to join us for one night only.” Draco shrugs. “I wouldn’t say I’m particularly inclined towards one way of doing things.”

“Threesomes?” Harry’s stomach flips and he looks at Draco.

“One or two.” Draco looks up at the ceiling. “I’m really not interested in women in the slightest. If you wanted to go down on someone, I suppose I could watch, but frankly the idea doesn’t do much for me.”

Harry stares at Draco. “ _What_?”

“I’ve heard bisexuals like threesomes,” Draco says, as if Harry isn’t the first bisexual he’s properly interacted with by all accounts. “I suppose it’s because you can have your cake and eat it.”

Harry scowls at Draco. “You’re such a knob, I can’t believe you.”

“I am not, don’t be so bloody rude.”

“Yes you are. There’s two of us here, and who’s the one having all the threesomes? Not me, that’s for sure.”

“It’s not _all_ the threesomes, it’s only been a few times.”

“That’s a few times more than me.” Harry rolls his eyes. “I was imagining two _men_ , anyway.”

“Really?” Draco looks shocked. “I wouldn’t have thought for a minute that would be up your street.”

Harry can’t help but be offended by the insinuation that he’s boring. “What, like you’re the only person who enjoys kinky sex from time to time?”

“I have absolutely no idea.” Draco takes off his coat and scarf, hanging them in the hallway with Harry’s and following him into the kitchen. “You like kinky sex?”

“I don’t _know_.” Harry turns to Draco, feeling slightly desperate. “The first girl I kissed cried, I’ve only slept with a handful of witches—one of whom sold her story by the way, you probably read about my privates in the _Prophet_ —my first kiss with a man was in a fucking _cupboard_ because his mates dared him to do it and my longest serious relationship was with a lesbian,” he finishes, mournfully.

“Oh my god.” Draco bites back a laugh and runs his hand through his hair. “You haven’t had much luck, have you?” He chokes back another laugh. “Weasley’s a lesbian?”

“Yep.” Harry pulls a face. “I don’t think I did much for her.”

“No, I imagine not.” Draco finally stops laughing and shakes his head. “Well, she can definitely come to one of my parties then. I like her better already.”

“I’m sure you do. Quite right, too. She’s brilliant, and before you ask, no, I’m not still in love with her.” Harry folds his arms with a huff. “What I’m trying to say is, I don’t know much about any of it. I don’t reckon I’d be much good at sharing—but the idea of someone else _and_ the person I’m with doesn’t fill me with dread.”

“No?” Draco moves closer to Harry, brushing his fingers over Harry’s arm. “It wasn’t just because my friends dared me to do it,” he says, finally.

“It wasn’t?” Harry sucks in a breath, pulling Draco a little closer. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Draco studies Harry. “I for one have had my fair share of threesomes and I would be quite happy never to have one again. _Not filling someone with dread_ isn’t quite the same as turning somebody on. Having said that, if you wanted the experience, I know some wizards that would be discreet.”

“I don’t know what I want.” Harry can’t help but feel slightly miserable. “I really don’t.”

“I think maybe working out how you like the basics with one person might be best, before you start going to wizard orgies or fetish bars.” Draco pauses, clearly wondering whether to say what’s on his mind. “Look, when you said you were bi my first thought was one person might not ever be enough for you—”

“—But it’s so _stupid_.” Harry’s frustration rolls through him. “It’s so unfair to think that I’m going to run off with the first witch that turns my head.” He opens his mouth to continue, before Draco cuts him off.

“No, you misunderstand.” Draco sighs. “I’ve got some shitty opinions I need to change, I think.”

“Yeah, you have actually. You and that bloody friend of yours,” Harry mutters. “ _Philip._ Who I reckon fancies you, by the way.”

“Yes, well. I definitely don’t fancy him.” Draco wrinkles his nose as if the thought is unappealing, and it makes Harry’s heart kick happily. “What I’m trying to say is it’s unfair of me to ask for reassurance that _I’m_ going to be enough for _you_ , if I’m not prepared to tell you from the outset that you’re enough for me. More than enough.”

“Okay.” Harry’s anger ebbs away and he relaxes, just a little. “What does that mean?”

Draco rubs his jaw. “I don’t know, Potter. What it means is, from where I’m currently standing, polyamory isn’t something I want to explore with you and if anyone proposed a threesome—witch or wizard—while I was standing next to you, I would spend the next twenty-four hours working out ways to curse them, so it would never happen. Is that clear enough for you?”

Harry laughs, his tension easing completely. “You could just say ‘no thanks’, instead of the curse thing. I’d be okay with that.”

“Well.” Draco sniffs. “I wouldn’t want to cramp your style.”

“I have no style,” Harry points out.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Draco cups Harry’s chin in his palm and leans in, giving him a slow kiss. He pulls back and gives Harry a steady smile, his eyes flashing with heat. “Fancy giving me a tour of the house?”

“Oh.” Harry’s face breaks into a broad smile. “There’s not much to see. Living room, kitchen, study, spare room, couple of loos. Blah, blah, blah. Bedroom’s pretty good, though.”

“I think you should show me that, then.”

Harry pushes off the kitchen counter and makes his way quickly upstairs, with Draco following close behind.

*

The ease he feels when he’s naked with Draco takes Harry completely by surprise. He can’t help but think that sex is like riding a broom and just as he did when he first flew, he wants to learn every possible thing.

“Do you want to fuck me? Or should I fuck you?” Harry mouths down Draco’s arched neck, tasting the delicious heat of his skin. He’s so hard already he’s not sure he’s going to last for much of anything, but he wants to make the effort. He doesn’t want Draco to think he’s scared of being fucked, even if he is, a bit.

“You’re such a Gryffindor.” Draco rolls them over and rests over Harry. His hair has lost some of its usual rigid style and it falls over his forehead in a way that’s thoroughly disarming. In a flash of heat, Harry realises how much he likes Draco like this. He likes seeing the unfiltered version of Draco—the rumpled, turned on version of Draco. That cupboard at the Manor was far too dark, and Harry wants to appreciate the way Draco looks when he’s coming properly this time. “Have you got any plans today?”

“I need to walk Snitch later.” Harry shakes his head at Draco. “But no plans other than that.”

“Well, then.” Draco brushes his lips to Harry’s jaw, his voice low and throaty. “There’s really no rush, is there? We don’t have to do everything all at once.” His voice gets deeper still, his lips moving against Harry’s chest as he makes his way down Harry’s body. “First things first….”

“First things—?” Harry is cut off in his tracks when Draco slides his mouth over his cock. “Oh _fuck_.”

Draco’s mouth is hot, wet and tight and he’s so dizzyingly good at giving head, Harry thinks he’s about to lose his mind. He collapses back against the pillows with a grunt, wishing Draco didn’t look so fuzzy with his glasses off. He groans with pleasure as Draco works over his cock, sliding his hands into Draco’s hair. It’s almost too good—the pleasure elicited by Draco’s mouth combining with a week of anticipation, a lot of wanking and building himself up into a crescendo of need. It doesn’t seem weird or odd. Being like this with Draco feels like the most natural thing in the world, which surprises Harry, not because Draco’s a wizard, but because he’s _Draco Malfoy_. He seems to appreciate Harry’s grunts and groans of pleasure, working his mouth over Harry with efficient purpose to pull him to a place of pure pleasure.

Draco slides off Harry momentarily and reaches for his wand to cast a spell which leaves Harry’s arse slick with lube.

“Are you going to fuck me?” Harry tries not to sound nervous about it. He wants it, but he also can’t imagine it feeling good. He decides it’s best just to do it, and perhaps it might take him by surprise.

“I wasn’t planning to.” Draco slides his fingers through the crease of Harry’s backside, cool and slick with lube. He holds Harry’s gaze, his eyes dark like thunderclouds. “That can wait.” He rubs his finger against Harry’s hole, the pressure maddening. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah. Fuck, _yeah_.” Harry parts his legs and shifts until Draco applies more pressure. He hisses when Draco takes him back into his mouth again and slides a slick finger inside Harry. He’s never done this with anyone before and the sensation is weird at first, but not unpleasant. The slide, stretch and light burn of Draco’s finger inside him is almost unbearably good. With a ragged groan, Harry pushes back against Draco’s fingers. He adds a second with the same, slick ease as the first, stretching Harry just a little bit more. He curls his fingers and massages slowly inside Harry until a blissful, white-hot pleasure overwhelms him. Everything is hot, sticky and sweaty and even though Harry feels more exposed than he’s ever been, it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. He lets himself get lost in the pleasure of Draco’s talented fingers, realising he likes the sensation of being fucked—or he does if it’s anything like this. Draco isn’t tentative or gentle, he’s rough and urgent, his mouth sliding over Harry with purpose. He fucks his fingers hard inside Harry’s body, fast then slow, a massage then a steady drag backwards as he pulls his fingers nearly out.

The newness of the touch and the heady realisation that he’s in bed with Draco Malfoy sends sparks of heat through Harry’s veins. He licks his dry lips and tangles his hand in Draco’s hair again, pressing up into his mouth. The room is sweaty and hot as their bodies shift together. The sounds of sex fill the room and there’s something so utterly glorious and filthy about it as the combination of sweaty heat, the push of Draco’s fingers and the slide of his talented mouth brings Harry to the edge.

“Wait, I’m—” Harry tugs Draco’s hair, because he doesn’t think he can find the right words to warn him he’s right on the edge.

Draco’s response is a low _hmmm_ of contentment and he increases his efforts, his slick fingers curled inside Harry as he moves his mouth over Harry’s cock.

With a gasp of pleasure, Harry bucks up into Draco’s mouth. He comes hard in Draco’s mouth, watching him as he slowly slides off Harry and swipes his lips with the back of his hand. He looks flushed and his lips are red from letting Harry fuck into his mouth. It’s so good. He looks so brilliant—so fucking _handsome_ —that even as the heat of Harry’s climax fades he’s ready (in theory if not in practice) to do it all again. He tugs Draco up and kisses him firmly, rolling him onto his back and making his way eagerly down Draco’s body. He takes Draco’s aching prick in his mouth and listens to the murmurs of encouragement, changing his approach with Draco’s instructions. It’s so hot having his mouth stretched wide and listening to Draco guide him. It makes Harry squeeze down on Draco’s thighs, his hands slipping under Draco’s backside to pull him deeper into his mouth. He pulls back with a cough having somewhat overestimated his abilities.

“It’s okay.” Draco’s voice is rough with arousal and he grins at Harry. “You’re good at this.”

“Yeah, I’m brilliant.” With a snort of laughter, Harry rolls his eyes at himself and then gets back to work. To his surprise it doesn’t take long at all for Draco to reach a hot, sharp climax, the taste of it salty in his mouth. He stretches out on the bed and tips his head to the side to look at Draco.

“Draco?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“I definitely want to do that again.” Harry swallows and he leans in to kiss the curve of Draco’s Adam’s apple, savouring the beads of perspiration on his skin. “All of it. The other stuff, too. Tell me what you like.”

“I like everything,” Draco says. His voice is soft and warm, sleepy and slow. “I like everything with you.”

Harry tugs the duvet over them and pulls Draco into his arms, nuzzling against his warm skin and sinking into a lazy, blissful sleep.

*

It’s bloody rude, being interrupted mid-kiss by a flashing camera bulb and a Quick-Quotes Quill prodding you in the arm.

“Excuse me.” Harry pulls back from Draco, reluctantly. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The Quick-Quotes Quill curls as if it’s personally affronted by Harry’s bad language.

“Can we quote you on that, Mr Potter?” The reporter looks excited, his notepad floating next to the quill which starts writing frantically.

“Yeah, you can quote me asking you what the fuck you’re doing. In an alley. Watching me kiss my boyfriend,” Harry says. He feels like he has the moral high-ground even though he was about five minutes away from indecent public exposure.

“Did I hear you correctly when you said _boyfriend_?” The reporter practically squirms with delight. “Can I have a quote for the record about your homosexuality? It must have been tremendously difficult for that fiancé of yours—”

Draco snorts and Harry elbows him in the side. It’s all very well for Harry to out himself, but he has no intention of speaking for Ginny. She’s more than capable of handling herself with the press, and he suspects she’d do a much better job of it than Harry.

“We were never engaged. That was a rumour spread by the _Prophet_.”

“Oh.” The reporter nods, sagely. “Because you’re a homosexual?”

“No, I’m not _gay_ ,” Harry says, pointedly.

“Goodness!” The reporter almost vibrates out of his skin. “How do you feel about that, Mr Malfoy?”

Draco gives the reporter a scathing look. It makes Harry want to get him somewhere private as soon as possible.

“I feel perfectly fine about it, thank you for asking.”

The reporter looks momentarily flummoxed. “Can you provide any more clarity on the situation? It’s really quite confusing.”

“For you, maybe.” Harry rolls his eyes. “Thankfully, it’s not confusing for either of us.” He pulls Draco close. “I’m bisexual. There’s your exclusive.”

“The _Prophet_ is also a terrible rag,” Draco says. “You can quote me on that, if you like.”

“Can you explain what you mean by—”

Harry Apparates he and Draco back to the bedroom at Godric’s Hollow and pushes Draco against the wall, kissing him fiercely. “God, Malfoy. It was so fucking hot when you looked at the reporter like that.”

“When you Apparated us.” Draco groans, unbuckling Harry’s belt. “I thought I was going to come in my pants.”

“I think I just came out.” Harry yanks down Draco’s trousers and sinks to his knees. “Thank fuck I’ve already told everyone that matters.”

“Mmm.” Draco twists his hand in Harry’s hair. “Are you— _ah, that’s so good_ —are you okay?”

Harry pulls off Draco’s cock and looks up at him. “What do you reckon?” His stomach twists and he sits back on his heels. “Are _you_ okay? I, um. I think I called you my boyfriend.”

“And?” Draco blinks down at Harry.

“Have we discussed that?”

“Do we need to?” Draco rolls his eyes. “I’ve been telling everyone who’ll listen you’re my boyfriend for weeks.”

“Oh.” Harry grins. “Brilliant.”

“Yes, brilliant. Now less talking, more sucking my cock.”

“Got it.” Harry gets back to work and it’s a good fifteen minutes before either of them are capable of talking again.

*

Harry arrives at Draco’s after finishing the last of his marking, feeling pretty smug about making the deadline by the skin of his teeth. Now it’s done, he can properly focus on enjoying himself with Draco before the new round of teaching begins again, without the pile of exam papers in his study making him feel guilty every time he walks past. The party is in full swing and Draco’s nowhere to be seen, so Harry helps himself to a glass of champagne and a mushroom vol-au-vent.

“Evening, Potter.” Philip takes the last delicious looking mini-bruschetta Harry had his eye on and pops it in his mouth. “Lovely to see you here.” He sounds as if he doesn’t think it’s lovely in the slightest.

“Hello again.” Harry shakes Philip’s hand reluctantly. Snitch—a new guest at Draco’s parties—growls at Philip. “Shush, girl.” Harry gives Philip an apologetic look. “She won’t bite.”

“Good.” Philip glares at Snitch. “I thought Draco preferred Kneazles.”

“I think Draco’s just fine with Snitch.” Harry resists the urge to punch Philip in the nose, tempting as it is. “They’re best of pals.”

“Really?” Philip sounds as if he doesn’t believe it for a minute. “I can’t imagine that.”

Harry searches for something to say that isn’t an insulting remark about Philip’s terrible shirt. “How have you been?”

“Fine, I’ve been fine.” Philip gives Harry a distrustful look. “Did I read something about you being _bisexual_?”

“Yes,” Harry replies, curtly. “Is that a problem?”

“Well I just don’t see how it’s possible,” Philip replies, snappishly. “Everybody knows that there’s no such thing as bisexua—”

“—I should remind you that this is _Harry Potter_.” Draco appears from nowhere, slipping an arm around Harry’s waist. “Hello, Harry.” Draco smells absolutely delicious. He leans in and kisses Harry’s cheek before continuing. “Potter killed the Dark Lord.”

“Twice,” Theo pipes up. “Didn’t you fly a dragon once, too? That was cool. At the time I thought it was shit, obviously, but now I think it’s quite impressive. Funny how your perspective on things change when you get to know somebody.”

“Don’t you go drinking with Kingsley Shacklebolt on Thursdays?” Blaise says. “Is it true that your best friend Hermione Granger is running for Minister next election?”

“Potter really is frightfully well connected,” Draco says. Philip looks irritated and he opens his mouth to speak before Ginny—another new addition at Draco’s parties—interrupts him.

“Don’t forget my brother’s Head Auror.” Ginny gives Harry a kiss on the other cheek, and Harry can’t help but feel like he’s giving Philip ammunition, flanked on either side by the witch he used to go out with and the wizard he’s currently going out with. Not that he gives a Hippogriff’s scrotum about Philip, whose opinions are decidedly rubbish. “My brother Bill’s sort of a werewolf,” Ginny continues. “He’s a Curse-Breaker too, but it’s really one of those jobs where you can curse just as well as you can break curses if you know what I mean?”

“I think he gets what you mean, Gin.” Harry grins at her and she squeezes his arm.

“Just looking out for you.” Ginny glares at Draco. “By the way, I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Malfoy.”

“Here we go,” Draco mutters.

“When you said _I’ve got a good friend who’s a lesbian_ I didn’t think you meant Pansy naffing Parkinson. She’s been giving me the eye over the hors d’oeuvres all night.”

“You should say hello.” Draco tightens his arm around Harry. “Stranger things have happened.”

“I’d need a lot more booze before I get off with Parkinson. Harry’s easier with his affections than I am.”

“Excuse you, I’m right here.” Harry glares at Ginny. “What happened to looking out for me?”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Ginny gives Harry another kiss on the cheek. “I love that big, stupid heart of yours, and you know it.” She steels herself. “Right, I’m off to tell Parkinson to stop drinking all the Aperol.” She rolls her eyes. “She’s probably so busy being snooty about magic she’s never even heard any Tegan and Sara. Does Muggle music even work in this posh manor of yours, Malfoy?”

“No.” Draco smirks at Ginny. “You and Parkinson can always take a midnight stroll away from the magic, if you want to serenade her with love songs or whatever it is lesbians do.”

“I’d sooner put my hand in a jar of Grindylows, thanks all the same.”

Draco waits until Ginny’s out of earshot and then grins at Harry. “Pansy’s got a thing for your ex. If you ask me it’s a classic case of hate to love. Perhaps we can double date?”

“Brilliant.” Harry tries to sound enthusiastic, even though he doesn’t like Pansy in the slightest. Still, he supposes if Draco’s changed there’s no reason Parkinson hasn’t turned over a new leaf too. “Ron and Hermione want us to come over for dinner too. They’re elbow deep in nappies at the minute, but I’m sure Ron would appreciate the help if you fancy it.”

“Brilliant,” Draco echoes, with similar levels of forced enthusiasm. “Weasley hasn’t disowned you, then?”

“For shagging you?” Harry laughs. “Nope. He’s got other things on his mind. I caught him after two hours sleep and I’m not sure he remembers any of it.” Even though he’s making light of it, Harry’s heart was in his throat when he finally plucked up the courage to talk to Ron.

“Krum’s one of those too,” Ron had said, around a mouthful of sandwich. “A bisexual. Caught him tossing Wood off in the Quidditch changing rooms and he said he likes witches and wizards. I told Hermione, because I thought it might make her stop liking him.” 

Harry stared at Ron over his pint. “First, why didn’t you tell me any of this, and second, you thought telling Hermione that Krum’s bi would stop her liking him?”

Ron wiped his mouth with a napkin and shook his head. “No, mate. I told her in the hope it might make her think he wasn’t that interested. He was getting off with Wood, after all.”

“You’re a twat,” Harry said.

“I know.” Ron pulled a face. “It didn’t work either, apparently she already knew all about it so it just made me look like a right arse. I had to try something, though. Even Krum’s ears had muscles and I spent most of Hogwarts looking like a limp carrot.”

Harry had taken a bit of Ron’s sandwich and tried not to be put out about not knowing any of this. “Still could have told me.”

“All Horcruxes, Horcruxes, what the fuck’s Malfoy up to and Horcruxes with you, mate.” Ron grinned at Harry, and Harry ate the rest of his chips largely out of spite.

Harry shakes himself from his thoughts and turns back to the conversation.

“I just think you should be careful,” Philip says. He’s standing too close to Draco for Harry’s liking, and he gives Harry another suspicious glance.

“I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.” Draco edges away from Philip and slips his hand into Harry’s. “Did you miss the part about Potter here being quite a powerful wizard?”

“And the bit about riding a dragon,” Theo pipes up.

“Potter really is quite something,” Draco murmurs. He lowers his voice, his lips and breath warm on the shell of Harry’s ear. “I’d forgotten about the dragon. I suddenly find myself even more attracted to you. How unexpected.”

Harry snorts a laugh and wraps an arm around Draco, amazed at how right and easy it feels. He gives Philip a sheepish grin.

“I think they’re defending me. If you’ve got something to say though, I can fight my own battles. I have some duelling experience if you’d rather sort things out that way.” Harry reaches for his wand, even though he has no intention of using it. Duels are such a stupid way to solve things, and he’s not sure he’d trust Philip to be the honourable sort of dueller that doesn’t use spells that might seriously harm someone—or worse.

“Good lord, no battles here.” Philip gives Harry a nervous look, his cheeks turning pink. “I just wanted to say congratulations on coming out. Proud to be a bisexual ally, Potter.”

“Thanks.” Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes, quite sure Philip will start complaining again as soon as Harry’s out of earshot. “It’s great to have your support.”

Harry can’t help the niggling feeling that a conversation with Philip—or someone like Philip—might not go so smoothly for someone who can’t pull out the _I saved the world and my best mate’s probably going to be the next Minister_ card. Perhaps he can make use of the _Prophet_ ’s newfound interest in his salacious love life after all. They clearly don’t know what the buggering hell they’re talking about when it comes to bisexuality based on the things they’ve already put in print about Harry and Draco. An interview might help.

Harry isn’t sure he’s ready to be any kind of spokesperson and he’s fiercely protective of his privacy, but he can’t resist the urge to use his voice to do something positive. Speaking out—even if Harry doesn’t have the same way with words as Hermione—might be like helping someone cast a faltering _Lumos_. He doesn’t want other people to go through life feeling scared of the dark.

Whatever he does, it can wait for one more night. Harry turns to Draco, eager to leave any big debates about his sexuality to another day. Particularly as Draco looks fit as fuck and seems to be in some kind of mood. “You liked the thing with the dragon, hmm?”

“Oh yes.” Draco runs his tongue over his lips. “Like Nott said we obviously pretended not to like it, but now that I think about it again…” Draco gives Harry a look up and down. “Dragon hide boots, some kind of leather perhaps.”

“Whatever you want.” Harry runs his hand down Draco’s back, brushing his fingers over the curve of Draco’s arse. “ _Whenever_ you want.”

Draco presses closer with a hum. “It’s a bit rude of the host to leave his own party, but I hear there’s a poky cupboard down the corridor. It’s good for illicit moments under the cover of darkness.”

“Like old times.” Harry winks at Draco. “Can’t we just tell everyone to fuck off and go to your bedroom?”

“We could just go to my bedroom anyway and leave people to finish the champagne.” Draco looks at Snitch who gives him a baleful _ruff_. “Although that daft dog of yours would probably have to come too. I wouldn’t leave her here with this lot.”

Draco’s concern for Snitch makes Harry’s heart swell and he crouches down, giving her a big kiss on the head. “You’re right. I’m sure we can wait.”

“We’ve got plenty of time,” Draco replies. It sounds warm and hopeful, like a promise of something more than later. It makes Harry think of all the days he’s spent with Draco, taking Flo out to the countryside to walk Snitch as Draco tries to convince Harry they should get another rescue puppy. _They_. The thought makes Harry’s heart full.

“Even more time, now we don’t have to arse around in Tesco’s carpark.” Harry joins Draco on the sofa and lets Snitch bound up to lie across both of them. “Is she okay on the sofa?”

“Of course she is, aren’t you, darling?” Draco scratches behind Snitch’s ears and she whimpers happily. “Don’t let this horrible man tell you otherwise.”

“This _horrible man_ is the one you’re going to be looking for a blow job from later,” Harry points out. “Stop trying to steal her affections.”

“As if I would.” Draco puts his feet up on a nearby chair and levitates a bottle of champagne over with his wand. “Thank fuck I don’t have to learn how to parallel park.”

“Thank fuck I don’t have to teach you,” Harry replies. He’s relieved that Draco dropped his driving lessons pretty quickly when he realised they could be doing much more enjoyable things with their time— _I was only learning how to drive so I could have sex and now I’m having plenty of that without my license_. A thought occurs to Harry and he shifts closer to Draco, putting an arm around him. “Speaking of teaching people things, weren’t you supposed to teach me how to dance?”

Draco puts a hand on Harry’s thigh and squeezes it. “I think we’ve established based on all the things I’ve taught you so far, that I do my best work when I get something out of it. What’s in it for me?”

“I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.” Harry grins at Draco. “A new rescue puppy, perhaps?”

Draco looks torn. “I was thinking something filthier than that, but I suppose I’ll be able to tempt you do those things in any event. You’re really quite insatiable.”

“So I’m discovering.” Harry pulls Draco in for a kiss, until Blaise throws a breadstick at them and tells them to knock it off. He keeps a solid arm around Draco and rubs Snitch’s head as she snores softly in Draco’s lap. “I’m thinking I might do an interview with the _Prophet_. It could help.”

“Do you always have to save the world, Potter?”

“I don’t know.” Harry shrugs. “I like to do my bit.”

“Next thing I know you’ll be making me carry the bi flag at one of our marches.”

Harry stares at Draco. “There’s a flag?”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Speak to Granger.”

“Thanks. I will.” Harry presses a kiss to Draco’s jaw. “I like that there’s a flag. It makes me feel less odd.”

“You’re not odd.” Draco laughs under his breath. “Well, you are. But not because you’re bisexual.” His throat bobs and he gives Harry a serious look. “Just be careful, will you? There are people that don’t like two men together, people that definitely don’t like me and people that don’t like _us_ because of what I used to be.”

“You make it sound like falling in love’s a dangerous thing.”

“That’s because it can be, even if I wish it wasn’t.” Draco glances around to make sure nobody’s listening and he clears his throat. When he speaks at last, his voice is rough and breathless. “Did you say falling in love?”

“I might have done.” Harry swallows. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” Draco replies. “Only in as much as it makes me question your sanity.” He looks around the room and groans. “I really do wish everybody else would fuck off.”

“You organised the party in the first place.” Harry laughs. “Is there any reason you’re desperate for people to leave?”

“Primarily because I want to go upstairs and do all the things that might go some way towards saying what I’m apparently incapable of putting into words.” Draco mumbles something into Snitch’s fur, cuddling her close. After a moment, he looks up and meets Harry’s gaze. “Your flag. It’s pink, purple and blue.”

“Sounds nice,” Harry says, quietly.

“It is.” Draco’s expression softens and he rubs his thumb against Harry’s leg. “Nicer than I ever expected. Nicer than I sometimes think I deserve.”

Harry’s heart thuds in his chest and he leans in to kiss Draco. He brushes their lips together, not wanting to get another breadstick in the face. “Malfoy?”

“Hmm?” Draco surges closer, kissing Harry breathless before pulling back. “What?”

“Maybe you could make me some more badges. The colour of my flag, this time.”

Draco stares at Harry and then bursts out laughing, startling Snitch who wakes up with a yelp. He settles her and shakes his head at Harry.

“I hate you. You’re such a horrible wanker. I’ll write Potter Stinks on those badges too, because it’s true.”

“Excellent.” Harry squeezes Draco’s hand before reaching for the bottle and topping up their glasses. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Draco rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t escape Harry’s notice that he’s still smiling.

Snitch clambers across them to lick Harry’s face and after all the unexpected twists and turns of the last few weeks, everything finally feels right with the world.

_~Fin~_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment below. ♥
> 
> This work is part of HD Erised, an on-going anonymous fest. The creator will be revealed January 7th.


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